IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT'3) 


1.0 


I.I 


W  ilM    1112.5 


2.0 


1.8 


1.25      1.4 

lA 

^ 6"     — 

► 

Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(7161  872-4503 


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CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


I 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best 
original  copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this 
copy  which  may  be  bibliographically  unique, 
which  may  alter  any  of  the  images  in  the 
reproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  change 
the  usual  method  of  filming,  are  checked  below. 


D 
D 
D 
□ 


D 
D 


D 


D 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 

Covers  damaged/ 
Couverture  endommagde 

Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaurde  et/ou  pellicul6e 

Cover  title  missing/ 

Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 


I      I    Coloured  maps/ 


Cartes  gdographiques  en  couleur 

iloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue 

ere  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bfeue  ou  noire) 


□    Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
En 


I      I    Coloured  plates  and/o'^  illustrations/ 


Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 

Bound  with  other  material/ 
Reli6  avec  d'autres  documents 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

La  reliure  serr^e  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
distortion  le  long  de  la  marge  intdrieure 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  ajout^es 
lors  d'une  restauration  apparaissent  dans  le  texte, 
mais,  lorsque  cela  dtait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  6t6  filmdes. 

Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  suppl6mentaires; 


L'Institut  a  microfilm^  le  meilleur  exemplaire 
qu'il  lui  a  6t6  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details 
de  cet  exemplflire  qui  sont  peut-dtre  uniques  du 
point  de  vue  bibliographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  la  m6thode  normale  de  filmage 
sont  indiquds  ci-dessous. 


I      I    Coloured  pages/ 


D 
D 
D 
D 
D 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  film6  au  taux  de  reduction  indiqud  ci-dessous. 


Pages  de  couleur 

Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommagdes 


I      I    Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 


Pages  restaurdes  et/ou  peliiculdes 

Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 
Pages  ddcolordes,  tachet^es  ou  piqu6es 

Pages  detached/ 
Pages  d6tach6es 


Showthrough/ 
Transparence 

Quality  of  print  varies/ 
Quality  in^gale  de  I'impression 

Includes  supplementary  material/ 
Comprend  du  materiel  supplementsire 

Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  Edition  disponible 

Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pages  totalement  ou  partiellement 
obscurcios  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  une  pelure, 
etc..  ont  6t6  film^es  d  nouveau  de  fa^on  d 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


10X 

14X 

18X 

22X 

26X 

SOX 

X 

1 
1 

12X 

16X 

20X 

24X 

28X 

32X 

1 

[ails 
du 

jdifier 
une 
mage 


The  copy  filmed  here  has  been  reproduced  thanks 
to  the  generosity  of: 

Library  of  Congress 
Photoduplication  Service 

The  images  appearing  here  are  the  best  quality 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  in  keeping  with  the 
filming  contract  specifications. 


L'exemplaire  filmi  fut  reproduit  grAce  d  la 
g6n6rosit6  de: 

Library  of  Congress 
Photoduplication  Service 

Les  images  suivantes  ont  6x6  reproduites  avec  le 
plus  grand  soin,  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  ot 
ds  la  nettet6  de  l'exemplaire  film6,  et  en 
conformity  avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmage. 


Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  —^  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  y  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies 


Les  cixemplaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  imprimie  sont  filmds  en  commenqant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration.  soit  par  le  second 
p^at,  selon  le  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  filmds  en  commengant  par  la 
premidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  teiie 
empreinte. 

Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaltra  sur  la 
dernidre  imag««  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbole  — ^-  signifie  "A  SUIVRE",  le 
symbole  V  signifie  "FIN". 


Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc..  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
begirining  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  dtre 
film6s  d  des  taux  de  reduction  diffdrents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  dtre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  clich6,  il  est  film6  A  partir 
de  Tangle  sup6rieur  gauche,  de  gauche  d  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  n6cessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  m^thode. 


errata 
J  to 


e  pelure, 
;on  d 


T\ 


1 

2 

3 

32X 


1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

Vol 

I 


m 


;MlifiiirtiiffciiiJi<iii[iiimiiiMii>i>fctinfiiii 


Vol..  XII..  Ko.  10.  '        N»VKMnKH  17.  4SM.         Siil.Hcriptioii  PrlcL',  «2.fl« 


!«l&4lfe!«MK«4IM><llfc<llk.<4Mt4M>4ll>!S«..4^ 

teaert  Beml-MoBthlT.  XnMnAMtOaFon-Ollce  at  Kew  Tork  MMeond-obMiniiitwt.' 

FKTER  FKNBLON  COLLIER  Publibmb.  SU  W.  IStb  tiT,M.X. 


MIFffr^'Slf^lPW^ 


i« 


WORTH  A  GUINEA  A  BOX. 


..  i 


PILLS 


CURE 

SICK    HEADACHE, 

DISORDERED    LIVER,  ETC. 

They  Act  Like  Magic  on  the  Vital  Organs, 
Regulating  the  Secretions,  restoring  long  lost 
Complexion,  bringing  back  the  Keen  Edge  of 
Appetite,  and  arousing  with  the  ROSEBUD  OF 
HEALTH  the.  whole  physical  energy  of  the 
human  frame.  These  Facts  are  admitted  by 
thousands,  in  all  classes  of  Society.  Largest 
Sale  in  the  World. 

Covered  with  a  Tasteless  &  Soluble  CoaUng. 

Of   all   druggists.     Price   35   cents  a  box.      ^ 
New  York  Depot,  365  Canal  St.  3    f 


4 


■i 


;^3 


'M 


W!»  4fr  '/W"  W"  "W  ^ 

L  BOX."  *' 


,  ETC. 

tal  Organs, 
ig  long  lost 
;en  Edge  of 

OSEBUD  OF 

Tgy  of  the 
idmitted  by 
;y.     Largest 

9  Coating. 

nts  a  box.      9 
al  St.  3    ^. 


-■"^    [^i'/-  '*''  >> 


UNDER  SEALED 
ORDERS 


GRANT  ALLEN 


t^ 


r 


IN  TWO  FARTS— PART  ONE 


Entered  EL^coidicg  to  Act  of  Conerreas,  in  the  year  1B94,  by 

PlTIR  Fehilon  Coluek 
In  Um  Office  ol  tbs  Librarian  of  Counrress  at  Waablnston. 


>C^M^^-  '^^-^-i^C^, 


^ 


^^. 


Like  a  Novel 

is  the  story  of  the  way  people 
gain  Flesh  and  Strength  and  recov- 
er from  Coughs,  Colds  and  Lung 
Diseases  by  taking  p  -, 

•cott  s 


mulsion 


of  Cod- Liver  Oil,  with  hypophos- 
phites  of  lime  and  soda.  No  mys- 
tery about  it,  however;  simply  -a 
food  rich  in  nourishment,  PhyaioisULB, 
the  world  over,  endorse  it. 


When  suffering  from  a  weak,  emaci- 
ated condition  you  should  take  Scott's 
Emulsion  at  once  to  avoid  disease. 


Prepared  by  SGOTT  &  BOWNE,  N.Y.  Druggists  sell  it. 


el 


f  people 
iid  recov- 
id   Lung 

P7, 1 


lypophos- 
No  mys- 
slmply  -a 
^hysiciam, 
t. 

■k,  eiuaci- 
ike  Scott's 
ease. 

uggists  sell  It. 


jii-^^  'jijfSm 


*cSL- 


UNDER  .SEALED  ORDERS. 


CHAPTER  I. 


THE   RED   COTTAGE. 


At^l  these  fine  things  were  to  be  seen  in  Saoha's 
8tudio. 

Now  Saoha's  studio  was  allowed  to  be  the  pret- 
tiest room  in  all  the  house.  Saoha  said  so  her- 
self, indeed,  and  she  was  an  authority  on  decora- 
tion. And  she  said  the  truth.  Such  u  (jueer 
little  lopsided,  five-cornered,  irregular  nook  of 
a  room  you  never  saw  in  all  your  life.  It  was 
built  out  from  one  angle  of  the  external  wall,  and 
lighted  up 'from  the  north  aide  by  a  big  square 
bay-window,  which  projected  cornervvise,  anj'- 
how,  into  the  lawn  and  orchard.  It  was  quaint, 
because  it  never  aimed  at  quaintness;  it  achieved 
it  unconsciously.  And  the  outlook  was  charm- 
ing, too,  over  the  brook  and  the  hillside:  no  more 
satisfying  view,  Sacha  held,  among  the  Surrey 
Hills  than  the  larches  above  and  the  pear-trees 
below  as  seen  across  the  foreground  of  lavender 
and  poppies  from  her  studio  window-seat  at  the 

(3) 


t  •.     ■'h3.^.  5 


^i-jJiSbii. 


— itiUt^ 


wm 


OHDKRS 


Red  Cottago.  Throw  in  an  easel  or  two,  care- 
loHBly  posed,  a  few  soft  liberty  draperies,  h  Lewis 
Day  wull-pa])er,  an  Oriental  rug,  a  groat  Japanese 
screen,  and  Aunt  Julia's  black  silk  gown  (with 
Aunt  Julia  inside  it)  to  give  dignity  to  the  fore- 
ground, and  there,  as  well  as  this  poor  hand  can 
draw  it,  you  have  a  fair,  rough  sketch  of  Sacha 
Cazalet's  Hauctum. 

"For  my  part,"  said  Owen,  straightening  his 
arm  and  then  bending  it  so  as  to  display  the 
biceps,  "I  shouldn't  mind  a  little  rain.  The 
heavier  the  ground  is  the  better  my  chances." 

Sacha  looked  up  at  him  in  his  becoming  run- 
ning suit — he'd  been  sitting,  or,  rather,  posing, 
for  her  as  joint  winner  at  the  tape  in  her  spirited 
picture  of  "A  Dead  Heat:  The  Finish" — and  she 
thought  to  herself  as  she  looked,  though  he  wan 
.  her  own  brother,  that  a  handsomer  or  finer-built 
or  stronger-looking  young  man  wasn't  to  be  found 
that  day  in  the  length  and  breadth  of  England. 
She  drew  a  deep  breath,  and  added  a  delicate 
touch  to  the  stiflfened  muscle  of  the  straining 
fore-arm. 

"But  it'd  be  a  pity,"  she  said,  stepping  back 
a  pace  and  surveying  her  own  wark  critically, 
•'if  it  rained  while  we're  actually  on  the  grounds 
to-morrow.  You  men  have  no  thought.  Con- 
sider our  nice  now  gowns  and  hats  and  feathers." 

"It's  a  dreadful  waste  of  time,"  Aunt  Julia 
interposed,  smoothing  her  immaculate  white  hair 
behind  her  blameless  lace  head-dress.  "I  shall 
be  glad  when  it's  all  over,  I'm  sure,  and  you 
get  back  to  your  books  again,  Owen.     Young 


lel  or  two,  care- 
ttperios,  B  Lowia 
i  groat  Japanese 
lilk  gown  (witli 
nity  to  the  for«- 
H  poor  hand  can 
sketch  of  Sacha 

traightening  his 
g  to  display  tho 
ittle  rain.  Tho 
my  chances." 
I  becoming  run- 
■,  rather,  posing, 
)e  in  her  spirited 
"iuish" — and  she 
,  though  he  was 
ner  or  finer-built 
•asn'ttobefound 
idth  of  England, 
idded  a  delicate 
of  the  straining 

d,  stepping  back 
W9rk  critically, 
y  on  tho  grounds 
)  thought.  Gou- 
ts and  feathers." 
mo,"  Aunt  Julia 
culate  white  hair 

dress.     "I  shall 
In  sure,  and  you 

Owen.     YouDg 


UNDBR  8BALRD  ORDERH.  6 

men  of  twenty  ought  to  have  something  else  to 
busy  themselves  about  in  tho  world,  it  seems  t^) 
me,  liesidos  high-jumps,  and  hundred  yards,  and 
half-miles,  and  hurdle  races. " 

Aunt  Julia  mentioned  the  very  names  of  those 
offensive  exercises  with  a  certain  high-sniffing 
dislike,  and  as  if  between  unwilling  (juotation 
marks.  A  model  district  visitor,  Aunt  Julia,  if 
ever  there  was  one:  a  distributer  of  tracts  and 
good  counsel  gratis:  a  pillar  of  orthodoxy:  a 
prop  of  the  University  Central  African  Mission. 

"Mr.  Hay  ward  approves  of  them,"  Owen  an- 
swered, with  tho  air  of  a  man  who  stifles  opposi- 
tion by  citing  a  crushing  authority.  "I  suppose 
you  don't  want  mo  to  neglect  Mr.  Hay  ward's 
wishes.  He  says,  what  he  desires  above  all 
things  is  to  see  me  a  typical  English  gentleman. 
Now,  there's  nothing  more  English  than  ath- 
letics, you'll  admit.  Aunt  Julia.  He's  olways 
delighted  when  he  finds  me  going  in  hot  and 
strong  for  cricket  and  football  and  boating.  Be 
cosmopolitan  in  your  ideas,  he  says  to  mo  always, 
as  cosmopolitan  as  you  can  make  yourself ;  but 
be  English  in  your  pursuits,  your  costume,  your 
habits." 

"I  don't  think  he  need  be  much  afraid  of 
that,'"  Sacha  put  in  with  a  smile,  washing  her 
brush  out  in  chloroform.  "You're  English  to 
the  backbone,  Owen:  I  could  tell  by  the  very 
build  and  set  of  your  limbs  you  had  true  English 
blood  in  you." 

"Well,  if  it  rains  to-night,"  Owen  went  on, 
releasing  himself  from  his  fatiguing  pose,  and 


i 


■,.^;m 


' 


'•■. 


fl  infDBR  HBAI^RD  ORDBIW. 

flinging  himself  ilown  lik«  a  jouoff  f?i»nt  on  the 
ca|MU"i(>iw  wintlow-Hertt,  "Tshftll  pull  «)flf  the  milo: 
uikI  after  all,  thafw  th«  only  eveut  of  the  whole 
lot  I  roiiUy  caro  twoixiuco  al)Oiit." 

Aunt  Julia's  ourioMity  was  so  fully  arouBCMi  by 

hirt  unoxi)ectetl  avowal  that  who  doipned  for  a 

noinout  to  display  a  pjwHinfjf  interest  in  athleticH. 

'Why,  I  thought,"  Hho  criod,  astoniahod,  "you 

woro  certain  of  the  long  jump,  mid  tho  half  mile, 

aud  tho  cricket  ball." 

•'That's  just  it,"  Owen  replied,  stretching  his 
lett  arm  in  turn  and  then  retracting  it  suddenly. 
"I'm  siife  as  houses  for  those;  and  so  I  dpn't 
mind  a  bit  about  'em.  But  I'm  no  good  at  all 
for  tho  mile,  unless  the  gnmnd's  heavy.  On 
light  ground,  Charlie  Skene's  sure  to  beat  mo. 
If  it  rains,  there'll  ho  a  good  race— like  Sacha's 
picture  there — and  that's  just  what  I  love:  won 
by  a  ueck  at  the  finish."  Aud  he  glanced  at  his 
own  shapely  limbs  on  his  sister's  canvass  with 
not  unnatural  approbation  of  her  handicraft  or 
her  nioael. 

"Better  go  and  put  on  your  other  clothes  now," 
Aunt  Julia  remarked  with  an  undercurrent  of 
doubt.  She  was  never  quite  suro-in  her  own 
mind  whether  it  wua  exactly  right  for  Sncha  to 
paint  even  her  own  brother,  let  alone  the  profes- 
sional mwlel,  in  so  light  and  airy  a  costume;  be- 
sides which,  those  short  sleeves  must  be  conduc- 
tive to  rheumatism.  Aunt  Julia  pinned  her  faith 
on  tho  protective  virtues  of  red  flannel.  If  she'd 
had  her  own  way,  she'd  have  cased  Owen  from 
head  to  foot  in  that  triple  armor  against  assail- 


(KH. 


UMDHr  SEALED  URDRRH. 


n(iC  ginnt  on  the 
all  off  the  milf>: 

ut  of  the  whole 

» 

ally  rtrouHOii  by 
I  doigiied  for  a 
■est  in  iithleticH. 
stoniahod,  "you 
id  tho  half  mile, 

I,  Btretching  his 
ing  it  suddenly, 
and  HO  I  dgn't 
n  no  good  at  ull 
I'h  heavy.  On 
uro  to  beat  me. 
^e — like  Sacha's 
liat  I  love :  wcm 
e  glanced  at  hin 
'a  oanvasB  with 
r  handicraft  or 

)r  clothes  now," 
undercnrreitfc  of 
arc- in  her  own 
'ht  for  Sacha  to 
done  the  profos- 
■  a  costume ;  be- 
tnust  be  conduc- 
pinnodher  faith 
iinnel.  If  she'd 
sed  Owen  from 
r  against  assail- 


inn  chillH.    But  there!  what  can  one  do?    Young 
people  iiowi'dayH  are  so  welf-willtMi  ai.d  olmtinato! 

Owen  roHO  from  tho  wimiow-fwvit  and  shook 
himself  like  a  big  dog  just  released  from  tho  kon- 
nel.  "Well,  they  are  rather  chilly  to  sit  in," 
ho  admitttMl,  rt«iding  Aunt  Julia's  mind— which, 
for  tho  rest,  was  an  ojHjn  book,  with  very  few 
pages  in  it.  "I  don't  mind  if  I  do  go  and  put 
on  my  toggeries.  But  I'll  just  take  a  sharp  trot 
Hrst  round  tho  meadows  to  warm  mo." 

Ho  stood  with  his  hand  on  tho  door,  on  the 
point  of  staniiig,  when  a  timid  knock  outsido 
made  him  open  it  suddenly.  Martha  was  stand- 
ing there  with  an  envelope  on  the  sal  ver.  A  woll- 
truined  servant,  Martha;  she  knew  it  was  as 
much  as  her  place  wt«  worth  to  burst  into  tho 
studio  without  leu/e  while  Miss  Sacha  was  paint- 
ing there.  If  there's  anything  on  earth  that's 
destructive  to  a  work  of  art,  in  pigments  or 
words,  it's  continual  interruption  in  the  midst  of 
your  working  liours.  And  to  disturb  a  model's 
pose,  Sacha  often  remarked,  is  nothing  short  of 
criminal. 

"What  is  ity"  Owen  asked,  taking  the  enve- 
lope from  tho  sal  ver. 

"Telegram,  sir,"  Martha  replied.  "Boy's 
waiting  below  in  the  'all  for  the  answer." 

Owen  rojui  it,  and  bit  his  lips.  "Well,  this 
is  just  annoying,"  he  cried.  "Who  do  you 
think's  coming  down?  Mr.  Hay  ward  himself— 
and  at  twelve  o'clock  to-morrow." 

A  sudden  sileuce  fell  all  at  once  upon  the  little 
listening  group.     They  looked  at  one  another 


8 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDEBS. 


i  1^- 


and  bit  tlie^r  lips  in  embarrassment.  Clearly, 
some  unexpected  damper  had  been  put  at  once 
iipou  all  Owen's  plans.  8acha  was  the  first  to 
broak  the  awkward  pause.  "At  twelve,"  she 
said  musingly.  "And  the  sports,  I  think,  begin 
at  ten,  don't  they?" 

"Nominally  ten,"  Owen  answered,  still  re- 
garding the  telegram  with  a  very  rueful  face; 
"but  that  always  means  practically  half  past 
ten  or  thereabouts.  Punctuality  's  a  virtue  that 
hasn't  been  evolved.  They  take  such  a  prociouB 
long  time  clearing  the  course  and  so  forth." 

Sta.cha  consulted  the  card  of  the  sports,  and 
then  the  local  time-table.  "  iiCj'd  have  time,  if 
you  liked,  for  the  hundred  yards,  and  perhaps 
the  long-;;urap,  too,  before  his  train  gets  in,"  she 
said  with  as  deep  an  interest  aa  if  thousands  weie 
at  stake;  "and  even  then  you  could  go  down  to 
the  train — in  your  flannels — to  meet  him.  But 
you'd  miss  the  mile,  and  that,  you  say,  is  the 
only  even i:  of  the  lot  you  care  about. "  Sacha 
had  lived  long  enough  in  an  athlete's  family, 
you  see,  to  know  that  "event"  was  the  proper 
word  to  apply  to  these  particular  engagements. 

Aunt  Julia  beamed  horror  through  her  scanda- 
lized spectacles,  "Why,  you  don't  mean  to  say,  ^ 
Sacha,"  she  cried,  with  what  breath  she  could, 
muster  up  from  the  depths  of  her  outraged  bosom, 
"you  thought  Owen  might  go  down  to  meet  Mr. 
Hay  ward  at  t  he  Moor  Hill  Station  in  those  dread- 
ful racy  things!" 

Sacha  gazed  up  at  her  blandly.  "Yes,  I  did, 
auntie,"  she  answered,  in  that  calm,  soft  voice 


ORDERS. 


Tassment.  Clearly, 
id  been  put  at  once 
icha  was  the  first  to 
"At  twelve,"  she 
ports,  I  think,  begin 

answered,  still  re- 
a  very  rueful  face; 
tactically  half  past 
ality  's  a  virtue  that 
take  such  a  precious 
e  and  so  forth." 
I  of  the  sports,  and 
'  ifcu'd  have  time,  if 
yards,  and  perhaps 
is  train  gets  in,"  she 
aQ  if  thousands  wei  e 
ou  could  go  down  to 
-to  meet  him.  But 
hat,  you  say,  is  the 
care  about."  Sacha 
an  athlete's  family, 
ont"  was  the  proper 
cular  engagements, 
through  her  scanda- 
u  don't  mean  to  say, 
at  breath  she  could 
her  outraged  bosom, 
^o  down  to  meet  Mr. 
tation  in  those  dread- 

andly.     "Yes,  I  did, 
that  calm,  soft  voice 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


of  hers.  "That  was  exactly  my  idea.  Why 
not?  They're  so  becoming."  The  waut  of  rev- 
erence for  their  elders  in  young  people  nowadays 
is  jjositively  something  little  short  of  appal- 
ling. > 

Aunt  Julia  gasped.  "Go  ....  down  .... 
to  the  station  ....  in  those  clothes!"  she  re- 
peated, feebly  gazing  at  Owen,  open-mouthed. 
"Oh,  Sacha,  how  can  you?" 

Owen  watched  his  sister's  face  askance,  to  see 
what  she'd  answer.  But  that  imperturbable 
young  lady  had  made  her  mind  up  by  this  time. 
"No,  you'd  better  not  go,  my  dear,"  she  said, 
promptly,  after  a  short  pause  for  consideration, 
"Don't  be  at  the  station  at  all.  liun  your  races 
exactly  a.s  if  nothing  had  happened.  Mr.  Hay- 
ward'U  be  pleased  that  you've  trained  and  gone 
in  for  so  many  prizes.  There's  nothing  he  likes 
better  than  seeing  you  a  thorough  Englishman. 
Never  mind  about  him.  I'll  run  down  to  meet 
him  myself,  and  bring  him  up  to  the  field  to 
you." 

"Sacha!"  Aunt  Julia  ejaculated  once  more. 
It  was  all  she  could  say.  The  situation  was 
too  dreadful.  Words  failed  her  to  express  her- 
self. 

But  her  niece  was  not  a  young  woman  to  be 
turned  from  her  purpose  by  the  interjeotional 
application  of  her  own  Christian  name.  She 
knew  it  already.  She  was  three  years  older 
than  Owen,  and  her  character  was  more  formed ; 
besides,  she  was  a  professional  artist,  and  earned 
her  own  living.     Your  independent  woman  is  a 


««i^iSsi;^K^^3SS3^  ■i|i*#»M«?'V.»**^ij*?^  ■  ' ' 


:* 


UNDRR  SEALED  ORDERI9. 

feature  of  this  age.  She  has  acquired  initiative. 
She  thinks  and  acts  for  herself,  without  the  need 
for  a  father,  a  husband,  or  a  brother  to  lean 
upon. 

"Martha,"  the  independent  woman  said,  brisk- 
ly, turning  round  to  the  maid,  "bring  me  a  tele- 
graph form  from  the  dining-room. "  And  Martha 
flew  down  for  it  like  one  who  knew  that  Miss 
Sacha  at  least  would  not  be  kept  waiting. 
I  -  -  The  mistress  of  the  studio  sat  down  at  her 
desk  and  filled  it  in.  "Delighted  to  see  you  to- 
morrow. Owen  busy  athletics.  Will  meet  you 
at  station  myself,  unless  rain.  Wire  back  if  you 
wish  Owen  to  stop  away. — Sacha  Cazalet." 

She  handed  it  across  to  her  brother.  "Will 
that  do?"  she  said,  quietly.  Owen  stepped  nearer 
and  kissed  her. 

"You  are  a  brick,  Sacha,"  he  said,  "and  no 
mistake.  How  splendidly  you  manage  things! 
That's  just  the  way  to  lo  it." 

"For  my  part,"  Aunt  Julia  observed,  glanc- 
ing over  hie  shoulder  through  her  spectacles  with 
the  disapproving  eye  before  which  many  a  beer- 
absorbing  laborer  in  the  village  had  quailed  in 
his  shoes,  "I  call  it  exceedingly 'disrespectful 
from  a  boy  like  Owen  to  a  man  in  Mr.  Hay- 
ward's  position." 

"Oh,  he  won't  mind,"  Sacha  answered,  like 
bni>  who  knows  her  ground.  "He's  a  very  odd 
marj,  of  course.  And  he  demands  obedience. 
But  he  goes  in  above  everything  for  making 
Owen  athletic.  It's  the  spirit,  not  the  letter, 
Mr.  Hayward  cares  about.     He'll  be  delightec^ 


UNDEB  SEALED   ORtkEKS. 


11 


quired  initiative, 
svithoiit  the  need 
brother  to  lean 

kmansaid,  brisk- 
'  bring  me  a  tele- 
1."  And  Martha 
knew  that  Miss 
;  waiting, 
sat  down  at  her 
jd  to  see  you  to- 
Will  meet  you 
Wire  back  if  you 
a  Cazalet." 
brother.  "Will 
en  stepped  nearer 

le  said,  "and  no 
manage  things! 

observed,  glanc- 
>r  spectacles  with 
ich  many  a  beer- 
^e  had  quailed  in 
jly  'disrespectful 
an  in  Mr.  Hay- 

a  answered,  like 
'He's  a  veiy  odd 
lands  obedience, 
ing  for  making 
b,  not  the  letter, 
?'ll  be  delighte<? 


to  come  up  to  the  grounds  and  see  him  run. 
Don't  you  be  afraid,  auntie.  I'll  make  things 
all  right  with  him,  I  promise  you,  at  the  station. ' ' 


CHAPTER   II. 

-■>'".■ 

,         A   MYSTERIOUS   VISITOR. 

As  the  twelve-four  train  steamed  into  Moor 
Hill  Station  next  morning  Sacha  was  there,  to 
her  word,  in  good  time  to  meet  it.  A  handsome, 
upstanding,  self-contained  sort  of  a  girl,  Sacha 
Cazalet,  not  unworthy  in  physique  to  be  a  crack 
athlete's  sister.  As  she  stood  there  on  the  plat- 
form in  her  soft,  artistic'  dress  and  her  wide- 
brimmed  Rubens  hat,  with  the  calm,  strong 
face  beneath  it,  she  looked  as  if  she  might  have 
stepped  that  moment  straight  out  of  one  of  her 
own  graceful  and  earnest  pictures.  ^ 

The  train  pulled  up  with  a  jerk.  "Mer-ill, 
Mer-ill,  Mer-ill!"  cried  the  porters,  in  chorus^ 
in  their  accustomed  shorthand ;  and  a  passenger 
or  two,  divining  by  good  chance  that  these  caba- 
listic sounds  represeaied  Moor  Hill  in  the  ver- 
nacular tongue,  descended  slowly  from  the  car- 
riages, with  bags,  rugs  and  bundles.  Among 
them  was  one  noticeable  man  in  a  rough  tweed 
suit— tall,  thin,  and  time-worn,  but  a  typical 
aristocrat  as  to  mien  and  features,  with  a  clear- 
cut,  statuesque,  intellectual  face,  clean-shaven 


m 


12 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS, 


I  «» 


»  £■ 


all  over  bat  for  its  heavy  black  mustaches.  He 
came  down,  it  is  true,  in  a  third-class  carriage; 
Hiui  he  had  nothing  in  his  hand  but  a  stout,  un- 
trimmed  stick,  which  he  had  evidently  cut  for 
himself  on  some  blackthorn  -  covered  common; 
but  he  was  uouo  the  less  a  gentleman  confessed, 
for  all  that :  blue  blootl  shone  clear  in  his  face, 
his  walk,  his  tone,  his  gestures. 

The  noticeable  man  took  Sacha's  hand  cor- 
dially with  a  certain  stately  condescension,  yet 
as  one  who  liked  her. 

"So  you  came  to  meet  me,  Alexandra?"  he 
said,  smiling.  "That  was  awfuHy  good  of  you. 
Your  plan,  of  course.  You  did  quite  right  to 
let  Owen  gj  off  to  his  sports  unmolested.  I  appre- 
ciated your  telegram.  But,  there! — that's  your 
way:  you  can  always  be  depended  upon." 

"I  wish  you  wouldn't  call  me  Alexandra,"  the 
girl  answered,  with  a  little  shudder,  yet  taking 
his  hand  as  cordially  as  he  gave  it.  "You  know 
I  hate  the  name.  I  always  so  much  prefer  to  be 
known  as  Sapaa." 

Mr.  Hay  ward  turned  toward  the  gate  and  gave 
up  his  ticket. 

' '  Alexandra's  so  much  better,  though, ' '  he  said, 
slowly,  in  his  soft,  musical  voice.  "It's  good 
English  now — since  a  princess  brought  it  over. 
All  English  names  come  across  to  us  in  the  last 
resort  with  a  prince  or  princess.  We  haven't 
got  a  native  one.  William  and  Henry  and  John 
and  Eobert  came  over  with  the  Conqueror;  Ear- 
nest and  Augustus  and  Caroline  and  Sophia  came 
over  with  the  Georges ;  Alexandra  and  Olga  and 


KRS. 


UNDER  SBALED.  ORDBKB. 


13 


mustaches.  He 
l-class  carriage; 
but  a  stout,  «n- 
vidently  cut  for 
>vered  common; 
sman  confessed, 
ilear  in  his  face, 

cha's  hand  cor- 
ndescension,  yet 

Alexandra?"  he 
iHy  good  of  you. 
i  quite  right  to 
Jested.  I  appre- 
ire! — that's  your 
ed  upon." 
Alexandra,"  the 
idder,  yet  taking 
it.  "You  know 
auch  prefer  to  be 

;he  gate  and  gave 

;hough, "  he  said, 
ice.  "It's  good 
brought  it  over, 
to  us  in  the  last 
js.  We  haven't 
Henry  and  John 
Conqueror;  Ear- 
and  Sophia  came 
[ra  and  Olga  and 


Christian  and  Dagmar  came  over  with  'he  very 
latest  royal  importations.  But  English  snobbery 
seizes  ofl  them  and  adopts  thern  at  once.  That's 
the  English  fashion.  Whereas  Sacha  carries  date, 
as  you  say  about  your  gowns.  People  are  sure  to 
inquire  when  they  hear  it  in  what  country  of 
Europe  Sacha's  short  for  Alexandra.  And 
that — "  he  paused  a  second  -"would  interfere 
with  my  views  for   Owen's  luture." 

"  I  prefer  the  name  I've  always  been  called 
by  myself,"  Sacha  interposed  quietly,  and  then 
dosed  her  lips  short.  It  wa"  -^^amond  against 
diamond  with  those  two :  each  firm  as  a  rock  in 
liis  own  fixed  opinions. 

Mr.  Hayward  answered  nothing — at  least,  not 
directly.  "Owen  Cazalet,"  he  murmured,  with 
;i  sigh,  as  if  half  to  himself,  rolling  it  over  on  his 
tongue:  "Owen  Cazalet,  OwenCazalet.  Couldn't 
have  anything  that  would  sound  much  more 
British  than  that,  I  flatter  myself.  Though 
(Owen's  Welsh,  to  be  sure,  when  one  goes  to  the 
bottom  of  things,  and  Cazalet's  Huguenot.  But 
British  enough  as  times  go  nowadays — British 
enough,  Owen  Cazalet." 

"For  myself,  I  confess,  if  it  weren't  for  busi- 
ness purposes,"  Sacha  replied  obliquely,  "I 
nhould  much  prefer  in  many  ways  my  own  fam- 
ily name.  I  hate  disguises.  But  of  course  as 
I've  got  to  bo  known  now  as  Sacha  Cazalet  to 
picture-buyers  and  publishers,  I  must  stick  to  it 
for  the  future.  As  an  illustrator,  my  practice 
depends  largely  on  the  name.  It's  a  good  trade- 
mark for  the  purpose,  thank  Heaven:  distine- 


14 


UXDBR  SBALED  ORDEKS. 


tive  and  striking.  And  I  can't  change  it  now, 
unless  some  amiable  young  man  chooses  to  offei' 
me  his,  which  doesn't  seem  likely  iu  the  present 
state  of  society." 

•'Well,  I'm  glad  you  can't  cliauge  it,  my 
child,"  Mr.  Hay  ward  said,  not  unkindly,  looking 
down  at  her  with  eyes  of  unfeigned  admiration. 
He  was  old  enough  to  be  her  father,  and  he 
spoke  to  her  always  with  a  certain  ofd-fashioned 
paternal  courtesy,  much  as  a  Louis  Quinze  mar- 
quis of  the  stately-type  might  have  spoken  before 
the  court  to  mademoiselle  his  daughter.  "It 
would  be  a  pity  if  any  such  supgestion  of  un- 
Englisli  antecedents  were  to  stand  in  the  way  of 
my  plans  for  your  brother's  advancement." 

"It  would,"  Sacha  replied.  "I  admit  ib.  I 
acquiesce  in  it." 

They  walked  on  together  to  the  cricket-field 
whore  the  spoi-ts  were  to  be  held,  Mr.  Hayward 
stopping  every  now  and  then  with  genuine  de- 
light in  the  country  to  admire  some  pretty  spray 
of  young  bramble  or  cluster  of  hurt's  tongue  in 
the  hedgerow.  He  had  an  artist's  eye  for  nat- 
like Sacha's  own.     The  tangled  richness  of 


ure. 


the  stitchworts  and  red-robbins  by  .the  wayside 
seemed  to  charm  and  impress  him.  "It's  sweet 
country,"  he  said  at  last,  pausing  and  gazing 
deep  into  the  recesses  of  the  bush-grown  bank. 
"What  exquisite  depths  of  shnde!  What  luB-' 
cious  richness  of  foliage." 

"Yes,"  Sacha  replied,  in  the  same  tone; 
"such  a  struggle  for  life,  too,  isn't  it?  Each 
fighting  for  his  own  hand  1    Each  craning  and 


change  it  now, 
chooses  to  offei' 
y  iu  the  present 

cliaiige  it,  my 
ikindly,  looking 
lied  admiration, 
father,  and  he 
in  ofd-fashioned 
ais  Quinze  mar- 
-^0  spoken  before 
daughter.  "It 
pgestion  of  un- 
id  in  the  way  of 
.ncement." 
'•I  admit  ik     I 

the  cricket-field 
I,  Mr.  Hayward 
ith  genuino  de- 
►me  pretty  spray 
tiurt's  tongue  in 
st's  eye  for  nat- 
igled  richness  of 
by  .the  wayside 
m.  "It's  sweet 
ing  and  gazing 
ish-growii  bank, 
ide!    What  luB-' 

;he    same    tone; 

isn't  it?    Each 

ich  craning  and 


i-^&M 


tTNDBR  SEALED  ORDERS. 


15 


straining  to  overtop  the  other  1    Like  the  world 
we  live  in." 

"As  it  stands  now,"  Mr.  Hay  ward  assentetl 
gravely;  "a  tangled  maze — a  mere  unorganized 
thicket.  Yet  some  day  it  might  become  an  or- 
dered and  orderly  garden." 

"That  w-ould  be  sj  much  less  picturesque, 
though!"  Sacha  suggested,  sighing. 

'Less  picturesque?  Yos,  perhaps,"  Mr.  Hay- 
ward  cried,  like  one  who  sees  some  vision  of  de- 
light. "But  oh,  Sacha,  what  of  that?  More 
useful  and  more  hopeful." 

As  they  reached  the  cricket-field,  Sacha 
llanced  round  for  a  moment  to  see  where, 
among  the  crowd  of  spectators,  Aunt  Julia  was 
seated.  Her  quick  eye  soon  picked  out  the  im- 
maculate white  hair  among  a  little  group  of 
local  dignitaries  near  the  center  by  the  pavilion. 
Ml*.  Hayward  advanced  and  lifted  his  hat  to 
Miss  Cazalet,  with  that  indescribablt  air  o* 
courtly  chivalry  that  was  wellnigh  inseparable 
from  his  smallest  action.  Aunt  Julia  recei  ved 
the  bow  with  mingled  respect  and  distant  disap- 
probation. A  strange  sort  of  man,  Mr.  Hay- 
ward,  not  to  be  counted  upon  in  some  things — 
quite  a  gentleman  in  every  sense  of  the  word,  of 
course— but  somehow,  to  Aunt  Julia's  district- 
visiting  type  of  mind,  extremely  awe-inspiring 
and  not  a  little  uncanny.  She  was  never  quite 
sure,  if  the  truth  must  be  told,  as  to  Mr.  Hay- 
ward's  principles.  And  principles  were  to  Aunt 
Julia,  as  to  the  British  matron  in  general,  ob- 
jects of  a  distinct  and  almost  idolatrous  reverence. 


3 


\ 


" 


16 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


Mr.  Hayward  joined  the  group,  and  fell  into 
the  converuatiou  nt  once  with  the  practiced  skill 
of  u  man  of  the  world.  They  wore  discussing 
"that  daugorous  book,"  "A  Rural  Idyll,"  by 
Margaret  Forbes,  which.  Aunt  Julia  considered, 
"  undermintAl  the  very  ground- work  of  our  so- 
cial morality." 

Lady  Beaumont,  the  county  member's  wife, 
lolling  bai-k  on  her  chair,  gave  a  languid  asse«t. 
She'd  road  the  story  herself,  and  only  remembered 
now  she'd  found  it  interesting.  But  as  Miss 
Cazalet  diwipproved  of  it,  Avhy,  of  course,  hs 
politeness  tiemanded,  she  disapproved  in  concert. 

It  was  Miss  Forbes  they  were  talking  about? 
Mr.  Haywurd  asked,  smiling  curiously.  Ah, 
yes,  a  ver}'  clever  woman,  too,  and  a  bishop's 
daughter!  What  an  irony  of  fate !  He'd  heard 
one  or  two  good  stories  in  town  about  her.  Mrs. 
Forbes,  the  Bishopess,  was  quite  proud  of  the 
book's  succor;  b.it,  as  her  daughter  remarked, 
"If  I  hadn't  written  it,  mamma  wouldn't  have 
touched  it  with  a  pair  of  tongn,  you  know." 

He  knew  her  then,  Lady  Beaumont  suggested 
with  a  careless  interest,  from  the  chair  beside 
Aunt  Julia's. 

Mr.  Hayward  waved  a  graceful  and  half  de- 
precatory negative.  No,  he  didn't  exactly  know 
her — that's  to  say,  not  as  on  visiting  terms-^but 
from  time  to  time  he  ran  up  against  her  in  Lou- 
don drawing-rooms.  8ooner  or  later,  in  fact,  one 
ran  up  against  almost  everybody  worth  knowing 
in  any  way.  London's  so  small,  you  see;  and 
the  world's  so  shrunken  nowadays. 


IRH. 


UNDER  8BALKI>   ORDKR8. 


17 


p,  and  fell  into 
)  practiced  skill 
ivere  discuseiug 
.ral  Idyll,"  by 
Lilia  considered, 
vork  of  our  so- 

membor's  wife, 
hinguid  assent, 
ily  remembered 
But  as  Miss 
,  of  course,  «9 
>ved  in  concett. 
talking  about? 
uriously.  Ah, 
and  a  bishop's 
e !  He'd  heard 
bout  her.  Mrs. 
3  proud  of  the 
;hter  remarked, 
t  wouldn't  have 
rou  know." 
mont  suggested 
he  chair  beside 

ul  and  half  de- 
.'t  exactly  know 
ting  terms— but 
inst  her  in  Lou- 
iter,  in  fact,  ono 
worth  knowing 
11,  you  see;  and 
ys. 


Lady  Beaumont  glanced  the  mute  inquiry  with 
her  languishing  eyes:  "And  pray,  who's  your 
fine  friend?"  Aunt  Julia  intro<lucetl  him  with 
a  rather  awkward  consciousnjws.  "Lady  Beau- 
mcnt — my  nephew's  guardian — you've Jbeard  nie 
H|H3ak  of  him — Mr.  Hay  ward." 

The  county  member's  wife  put  up  hei  iong- 
handle(<  tortoise  shell  quizzing-glass — "the  aris- 
tocratic outrage,"  Sacha  always  called  it — and 
surveyed  Mr.  H-ay ward  for  full  fifty  seconds  with 
such  a  keen  searching  glance  as  only  your  hard- 
ened woman  of  society  dare  ever  bestow  on  a  fel- 
low-creature. A  plain  Mister,  then !  She'd  im- 
agined him  a  general  at  least,  if  not  a  baronet  or 
an  honorable.  Mr.  Hay  ward  stood  it  out  calmly, 
unmoved  and  unconscious,  with  that  imperturba- 
ble smile  of  his.  Then  he  drew  over  a  vacant 
chair  with  one  well-bred  hand,  sat  down  upon  it 
just  behind  them,  and  as  if  on  purpose  to  over- 
come some  initial  prejudice,  began  a  delightful 
ilow  of  the  most  amusing  gossip.  Even  Lady 
Beaumont  smiled  often.  He  handled  small -talk 
like  a  master.  And  how  he  knew  his  world,  too! 
Paris,  Vienna,  Berlin,  Constantinople,  the  little 
German  Spas,  the  Norwegian  fiords,  the  Dutch 
and  Danish  kurhauses,  the  Pyrenean  watering 
places.  Who  was  there  at  Cannes  whose  whole 
domestic  history  he  hadn't  at  his  finger-ends? 
Who  was  there  at  Florence  whose  flirtations  with 
the  Mai'chese  this  or  the  Comtesfca  that,  as  case 
and  sex  might  be,  he  couldn't  chronicle  fluently? 
What  family  skeleton  lurked  secure  in  its  native 
cupboard  from  his  piercing  scrutiny?    And  it 


^ 


4 


18 


UNDER  8GALKD  ORDBB8. 


h. 

h 


wasn't  all  mere  scandal  and  gosHip,  oither;  there 
waH  hJHtory  in  it  aH  woll ;  prufuuud  gt'(iti|)  of  na- 
tional lifo,  profuund  knowlwlgo  of  M»e  ttviMt«and 
turnH  of  human  uaturo.  For  Mi.  IlaywariJ  was 
a  pHychologist,  and  whilo  ho  fitted  his  convwrna- 
tion  to  his  hoarerH'  intolloctH,  ho  always  lob  you 
fuel  through  it  all  that  ho  hiniHolf  wtxn  Honie'^hing 
higher  and  higgor  than  tho  world  lio  descrfbed — 
that  ho  laughed  in  his  sleeve  all  the  while  at  it:) 
foibleu  and  its  follies. 

As  fur  Sacha,  sitting  beside  him,  and  listening 
silently  as  was  hor  wont  (fi»r  she  was  restraiuod 
of  nature  and  little  given  to  spoecli),  to  his  bril- 
liant flow  of  witty  society  talk,  she  couldn't  help 
wondering  to  herself  now  and  again  how  a  man 
so  intelligent  and  so  able  as  Mr.  Hay  ward  could 
possibly  lower  himself  to  so  feeble  a  lovol,  could 
waste  himself  contentedly  on  such  an  unworthy 
flow  of  pure  human  tittle-tattle.  And  Mr.  Hay- 
ward  on  his  side,  too,  seemed  to  bo  conscious  of 
her  foeling,  for  with  itifinite  tact  ho  managed  to 
turn  to  her  now  and  again,  and  add,  as  it  were, 
for  her  special  benefit,  a  little  aside  containing 
some  profounder  reflection  or  some  more  interest- 
ing detail.  Was  it  Madrid  he  was  talking  of; 
after  he'd  rattled  on  to  Aunt  Julia  and  Lady 
Beaumont  of  that  famour  bull-fight  where  the 
Duke  of  Medina-Coeli  got  his  collar-bone  broken, 
he  went  oS  at  a  tangent  for  ten  minutes  with  a 
word  or  two  to  Sacha  about  the  blaze  of  color  in 
the  streets  or  the  Murillos  in  the  Prado.  Was  it 
to  Venice  he'd  got  now;  after  describing  for  the 
listening  group  in  front  his  a.lventure  in  a  gon- 


KB. 


UMDRR   8RALKD   ORDBRH. 


19 


[),  oithor ;  there 
11(1  gniHi*  of  na- 
;  ilie  tw  into  and 

liaywari]  was 
il  his  cotivwrua- 
alwaya  lot  you 
was  Honie'-hiog 

ho  doHc  r  bed — 
the  while  at  ita 

n,  and  liHtoning 
)  was  restrained 
)ch),  to  his  br il- 
ie couldn't  help 
fain  how  a  man 
Ilayward  could 
lo  a  lovol,  could 
ch  au  unworthy 
And  Mr.  Hay- 
Ix!  oonscious  of 
t  ho  managed  to 
add,  as  it  were, 
.sido  containing 
le  more  interest- 
was  talking  of; 
ulia  and  Lady 
•fight  where  the 
ar-bone  broken, 
minutes  with  a 
>laze  of  color  in 
Prado.     Was  it 
escribing  for  the 
enture  in  a  gon- 


dola with  the  e<litor  rvf  the  FanfuUa  and  a  Nea- 
I)(>Htan  prima  donna,  h(^  divergtxl  into  a  Utile 
private  diHtjuisition  behind  on  the  mowiioM  of  St. 
Mark'H  t^nd  the  Athenian  lion  i^  the  gate  of  the 
Arsenal. 

Altogether,  "a  most  well-informed  man  of 
the  world,"  Lady  Beaumont  thought  to  her- 
self; "quite  an  acciuisition  for  thf  day  in  our 
s(v:ioty  at  Moor  Hill,  in  spite  of  IiIh  principlrw, " 
Aunt  Julia  reHocted  inwardly;  and  "What  a 
pity  he  wastes  hip.  talents  so,"  Sacha  meditated 
with  regret.  But  sho  was  wrong  for  all  that;  ho 
WfiHu't  wasting  them;  not  a  bit  of  it.  That  was 
iiis  rdle  in  lifd  To  be  all  things  to  all  men,  and 
all  women,  too,  bettering  oven  the  comprehensive 
apostolic  injunction,  war;  the  secret  of  his  pio- 
fossion. 

At  last  there  came  a  ptiUHe,,a  sudden  break  in 
the  fl  jwing  current.  The  mile  was  now  on ;  and 
St'<"ha  saw  for  herself  that  all  the  while,  amid  his 
<,'os8ip,  though  Mr.  Hayward  was  so  fluent  cf 
varied  exporionoes  in  all  corners  of  Europe,  his 
eyes  had  none  the  less  followed  Owen  perpetu- 
ally round  the  field  with  qiiite  as  much  •-. -jer- 
ness  and  constancy  an  her  own  had  done.  At  the 
finish,  he  Ijent  his  head  forward  for  a  moment  in 
imxiety,  then  sprang  from  his  chair  in  his  joy. 
"Bravo,  bravo!"  he  cried,  clapping  his  hands 
with  unaffected  delight  as  the  tape  fell  forward. 
"Owen  wins!  Owen  wins!  Well  done,  my 
boy !  Well  done !  You  must  be  proiid  of  him, 
Miss  Cazalet.  A  splendid  race  and  just  carried 
by  a  fine  spurt.     I  never  saw  anything  better  in 


to 


UNDKK  HRAl.KU  ORDERS. 


my  life  tlinn  tb(«  inHgnificent  wuy  he  did  tboeo 
liiHt  ton  y»irrd«  inl" 

Hu  But  down  Hgnin,  ciuitu  iluHhed  with  vicari- 
ouH  pride  in  his  ward'H  huccohh.  IUh  Uw.o  whh 
beiiniin^.  "I  wiuh  I'd  i>ruught  my  littiu  Huap 
ctunoru  witii  mo,"  lio  cried,  "to  take  an  inHtan- 
tauoouH  of  that  Html  dnsh-in.  It  was  ho  boauti- 
ful — HO  porfoot.  Tho  action  of  that  boy's  limbH, 
liko  a  thorouglibri»d  mcor'a— vhy,  it'u  just  a 
picture  to  look  at." 

At  tho  wordH,  Lady  Beaumont  rained  the  class 
outrage  on(;o  more,  and  t:M)k  a  Hucond  long  stany 
Btaro  at  tho  well-informed  Htranjjfer.  Could  it  bo? 
No,  impoHHiblo!  But  yos,  she  waH  sure  of  it. 
She  couldn't  bo  mistaken  now.  ShoM  suspected 
it  from  the  very  first,  and  in  thone  words  the  man 
himself  <ui  good  as  admitted  it. 

No  colonel;  no  ^aronet!  But  a  common  man 
from  a  shop  in  London ! 

"I  think,"  she  said,  very  deliberately,  in  tha^ 
gltissy  cold  voice  of  hers,  "I've  seen  you  before, 
Mr.  Playward.  You  say  one  knocks  up  against 
almost  everybody  in  town:  and  I've  knocked  up 
against  you  somewhere.  Haven't  wo  met — at  a 
photographer's  shop— I  think  in  Bond  street?" 

Aunt  Julia  quailed.  Sucha  Ipaned  forward 
curiously.  Lady  Beaumont  tapped  her  quizzing- 
glass  on  her  knee  with  the  air  of  a  detective  who 
unmasks  a  clever  disguise.  Mr.  Hayward  him- 
self alone  smiled  on  blandly  as  ever. 

"Yes,  I  remember  it  perfectly, "  he  said,  with, 
if  possible,  a  still  mere  self-possessed  and  high- 
bred air  and  manner  than  before.     "At  Morti* 


IKS. 

ly  he  dill  thoBo 

led  with  vicari- 
Ilia  (ivco  waH 
my  little  wmp 
tai<o  ill!  ioMtua- 
t  was  Hii  boiUiti- 
liut  buy'i*  liinbB, 
by,  it's  just  a 

rained  tlie  class 
loond  long  stany 
ir.  Could  it  bo? 
wiiH  Bure  of  it. 

Sho'd  BUHpocted 
lo  wordti  the  man 

a  common  man 

boratoly,  in  tha^ 
soon  you  before, 
locks  up  against 
I've  knocked  up 
I't  wo  met — at  a 
Bond  street?" 
leaned  forward 
aed  her  quizzing- 
'  a  detective  who 
Hay  ward  him- 
jver. 

,"  he  said,  with, 
sessed  and  high- 
ore.    "At  Morti- 


UNDER   HKAMII)   ORDRKM. 


M 


inor  ^  Co.'w,  in  IJoiid  Htreet.  I  had  the  plettnure 
of  a  Hitting  from  you  for  "The  (Jallery  of  Kash- 
itni."  I  I'ilit  the  serim.  My  tmmc'H  liainbert 
HnywHni;  but  in  Kond  Street  ^ni  known  under 
Uid  Htyle  and  title  of  Mortimer  &  Co.,  Phutog 
raphors." 

There  wi«h  an  awkward  pauHt*,  though  only  un 
infiniteHimal  one.  Lady  Knaumont  HuKhed  crim- 
son,  But  Mr.  Hay  ward  wiis  too  perfect  a  con- 
versationalist  to  lot  oven  such  a  point -l)lank 
thrust  ^rom  a  very  dumwy  batid  mar  the  eflfoot 
of  his  vnnaerie.  He  wont  on  with  the  subject 
at  isHUO  as  unconcernedly  as  though  Lady  Beau- 
mont wore  in  the  habit  of  dining  every  evening 
with  her  photographer. 

"And  instnntaneouH  views  are  a  perfect  pas- 
siim  of  mine,"  ho  continiuMl,  carolessly,  "I  love 
to  got  a  gootl  subject,  like  Owen  in  that  last 
Kpurt,  or  a  ya<;ht  at  the  turning-point,  to  catch 
a  really  graceful  movement,  and  'ecord  it  in  a 
lightning  flash.  You'd  hardly  btdieve,  Lady 
Hpfuimont,  how  much  skill  and  knowledge  it 
requires  to  choose  the  exact  instant  when  u  figure 
in  motion  is  at  its  pictureH«|un  l)est.  But  Sacha 
hore  knows  it  woU.  Even  the  most  exquisite 
dancing  has  a  gpoi»t  many  intermediate  points 
or  passing  attitudes  that  are  artistically  im|ios- 
sible.  Only  a  few  select  poises  are  really  useful 
for  art,  and  those  few  must  bo  discriminated  and 
registered  with  incredible  rapidity." 

"So  I  should  think,"  Sacha  interposed,  not  un- 
appreciative  of  the  gracious  tact  of  his  tribute  to 
her  artistic  taste,  as  well  as  the  unusual  conces- 


22 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


sion  implied  in  calling  her  by  her  pet  name  of 
Sacha;  "and  I've  often  noticed,  indoed,  how 
much  all  instantaneous  photographs,  except 
yours,  Mr.  Hayvvard,  are  wanting  for  that 
very  reason  in  spirit  and  vigor.  The  others 
look  wooden  and  unreal  and  angular;  yours 
alone  are  instinct  with  actual  life  and  motion." 

"Ah,  you  look  at  them  with  an  artist's  ej'^e, 
you  see,"  Mr.  Hay  ward  responded,  quietly;  "the 
moi;e  we  understand  the  difficulties  to  be  encoun- 
tered and  overcome  in  any  art,  however  rilechani- 
[k  cal,  the  more  do  we  learn  to  appreciate  it  and  to 

respect  its  producers." 

Lady  Beaumont  leaned  back  in  her  rough  rush- 
bottomed  chair,  and  knit  her  brows  abstractedly. 
The  problem  was  not  yet  solved :  it  was  only  in- 
tensified. Who  on  earth  could  he  be,  then,  this 
strange  high-bred-looking  man,  with  the  man- 
ners of  a  diplomatist  and  the  acquirements  of  a 
savant,  who  yet  turned  out  to  be  nothing  more, 
when  one  came  to  look  into  it,  than  a  photographer 
in  Bond  Street?  She  remembered  now  cbe'd  been 
rtruck  when  he  "took"  her  by  his  gentlemanly 
addretis  and  his  evident  knowledge.  But  she 
certainly  never  credited  him  then  wdth  the  close 
familiarity  with  men  and  things  which  he'd 
shown  in  his  rambling  and  amusing  conversa^ 
tion  that  morning  in  the  cricket- field. 


DERS. 

r  her  pet  name  of 
;ed,  indeed,  how 
tographs,  except 
ranting  for  that 
gor.  The  others 
[  angular;  yours 
life  and  motion." 
,h  an  artist's  ej'-e, 
ded,  quietly;  "the 
Ities  to  be  encouu- 
bowever  riiechani- 
jpreciate  it  and  to 

in  her  rough  rush- 
rows  abstractedly, 
id:  it  was  only  iu- 
i  he  be,  then,  this 
in,  with  the  man- 
acquirements  of  a 
)  be  nothing  more, 
lan  a  photographer 
red  now  cbe'd  been 
Y  his  gentlemanly 
wledge.  But  she 
;hen  with  the  close 
hings  which  he'd 
amusing  conversa- 
et- field. 


undSr  sbalbo  ordbbs. 


CHAPTER  III. 


GUARDIAN  AND   WARD 


Aptbr  a  few  minutes  more  talk  it  struck  Miss 
Cazalet  suddenly  that  Mr.  Hay  ward  had  only 
just  coma  down  from  town,  and  would  not  im- 
])robably  approve  of  a  little  light  refreshment. 
Sacha  and  Lady  Beaumont,  however,  refused 
his  courtly  offer  of  an  escort  to  the  luncheon 
tont,  and  were  left  behind  on  their  seats  as  be 
^^trollod  off  carelessly  across  the  grounds  with 
Aunt  Julia  beside  him. 

"My  dear  Sacha,"  Lady  Beaumont  began,  as 
soon  as  he  was  well  out  of  earshot,  still  follow- 
ing him  tJirough  the  quizzing-glass,  "what  an 
extraordinary  man!  and  what  an  extraordinary 
trade— or  ought  one  to  say  pt-ofessiou?  Why^ 
till  I  recognized  who  he  was,  do  you  know,  I 
took  him  for  a  gertlemau!" 

"So  he  is,"  Sacha  responded,  quietly,  but  with 
crushing  force.  ' '  A  gentleman  all  over.  I  never 
met  anybody  who  deserved  the  name  better  than 
<iur  Mr.  Hay  ward. "  She  spoke  with  proprietary 
jiride,  rs  u  the  man  belonged  to  her. 

LadjT  Beaumont  let  drop  the  outrage,  scanned 
!ier  clc»e  witli  the  naked  eye,  and  then  hedged 
prudently,  as  became  a  county  member's  wife, 
v/ho     must     conciliate    everybody.      "Oh,    of 


PF 


24 


UNDER  SEALED  OltDERS. 


I: 


course,"  she  said,  with  a  slight  drawl.  "A 
perfect  gentleman — in  voice  and  manners:  one 
can  see  that  at  a  glance,  if  only  by  the  way  he 
walks  across  the  lawn.  But  I  meant,  I  took  him 
at  first  sight  for  somebody  really  diBtinguiBhe<l 
— not  CL»nneoted  with  trade,  don't  you  know — a 
gentleman  hy  birth  and  education  and  position. 
A  military  man,  I  fancied.  You  could  have 
knocked  me  down  with  a  feather,  my  dear,  when 
he  said  right  out  ho  was  a  photographer  in  Bond 
Street." 

^^  You  said  it,  you  mean,  not  he,"  Sacha  an- 
swered, sturdily.  "He  wouldn't  have  obtruded 
his  own  affairs  without  due  cause  upK)n  anybody 
anywhere.  Tliough  he's  gentleman  enough,  if 
it  comes  to  that,  to  be  rather  proud  than  ashamed 
of  his  bu»iuosi).  But  as  to  his  being  a  gentleman 
by  birth  and  position,  so  he  is,  too.'  I  don't  know 
much  about  his  history — he's  an  awfully  reticent 
man ;  but  I  know  he'6  a  person  of  very  good 
family,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  and  has  taken 
to  photography  partly  from  love  of  it,  and 
partly  because  he'd  lost  by  an  unexpected  re- 
verse the  greater  part  of  his  fortune." 

Lady  Beaumont  mused,  and  toyed  nervously 
with  the  quizzing-glass.  "Well,  of  course,  these 
are  topsy-turvy  times,"  she  said,  nodding,  with 
a  candid  air  of  acquiescence.  "One  never  knows 
what  odd  trade  a  gentleman  born  may  take  to 
nowadays.  Lord  Archibald  Macnab's  ia  a  tea. 
broker's  in  the  city,  I'm  told ;  Lady  Browne  keeps 
a  bonnet-shop ;  and  I  went  into  an  upholsterer's 
in  Oxford  Street  the  other  day,  and  only  learned 


9ERB. 

ight  drawl.  "A 
nd  manners:  one 
ily  by  the  way  he 
meant,  I  took  him 
illy  distingiiiahe<l 
uu't  you  know — a 
,tion  and  position. 
You  could  have 
er,  my  dear,  when 
jographer  in  Bond 

ot  he,"  Sacha  an- 
I't  have  obtruded 
use  upon  anybody 
klemau  enough,  if 
oud  than  ashamed 
being  a  gentleman 
,00.'  I  don't  know 
n  awrully  reticent 
son  of  very  good 
ng,  and  has  taken 
love  of  it,  and 
i,n  unexpected  re- 
rtune." 

i  toyed  nervously 
all,  of  course,  these 
iid,  nodding,  with 
"One  never  knows 
born  may  take  to 
lacnab's  ia  a  tea. 
jftdy  Browne  keeps 
to  an  upholsterer's 
,  and  only  learned 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


25 


afterward  that  the  person  who  owns  it  and  sells 
pote  and  pans  and  wall-papers  is  an  Oxford  man 

and  a  poet Still,  I  took  Mr.  Hayward,  I 

must  say,  for  something  more  tbtin  that — some- 
thing reallif  distinguished,  don't  you  know.  Ho 
htw  the  manners  of  an  Austrian  count  or  an  Ital- 
ian prince.  I  shoidd  have  thought  him  u  for- 
I'igner,  almoHt— though  he  speaks  English  per- 
fectly ;  but  a  foreigner  accustomed  to  the  very 
highest  society." 

"So  he  is,"  Sacha  retorted  once  more,  as  stout- 
ly as  ever.  No  country  baronet's  wife  shou^l 
shake  her  allegiance  to  the  Bond  Street  photog- 
rapher. "Not  a  foreigner,  I  don't  mean,  for 
he's  an  Englishman  born,  he  tells  me;  out  ac- 
customed to  mixing  with  the  best  people  every- 
where." 

"Xot  a  foreigner?"  Lady  Beaumont  repeated, 
rolling  the  words  on  her  tongue  with  an  inter- 
rogative quiver.  "Such  stately  manners  as  his 
are  so  rare  in  England.  We  should  think  them 
too  empresse.  And  how  he  trills  his  r's,  too! 
Have  you  noticed  that  trick  of  his?  He  says 
R'rome,  per'rhaps,  Sor'r'rento,  char'rming." 

"He  lived  a  good  deal  abroad  as  a  boy,  I  be- 
lieve," Sacha  answered,  in  the  tone  of  one  anx- 
ious not  to  continue  the  subject.  "He  was 
partly  brought  up  in  Sweden,  if  I  remember 
right,  and  he  caught  the  trilled  r  there,  and 
lias  never  got  over  it  since.  But  his  English  in 
all  other  ways  is  as  good  as  yours  and  mine  is." 
She  might  truthfully  have  added,  as  far  as  Lady 
Beaumont  was  concerned,  "and  a  great  deal  bet- 


26 


UMDEK  SEALED  ORDERS. 


ter  too";  but  she  was  prudent  and  restrained 
lierself. 

W  hen  a  man  sees  there's  any  subject  you  don't 
want  to  talk  about,  ho  avoids  it  instinctively,  as 
a  nj.^ural  point  of  good  manners.  When  a 
woman  sees  the  same  thing,  her  curiosity's 
aroused  at  once,  and  she  compels  you  to  go  on 
with  it  exactly  in  proportion  as  she  finds  you 
desire  to  evade  her  questions.  Lady  Beaumont 
saw  Sacha  didn't  want  to  talk  about  Mr.  Hay- 
ward,  so  of  course  she  pressed  her  hard  with 
more  direct  inquiries.  Tbat's  what's  known  as 
feminine  tact.  "He's  your  brother's  guardian," 
she  said  musingly,  after  a  moment's  pause.  "I 
suppose,  then,  he  was  a  very  great  friend  of  your 
poor  father's." 

Sacha  winced  almost  imperceptibly :  but  Lady 
Beaumont  was  aware  of  it,  "Not  exactly  his 
guardian,"  the  girl  answered,  after  a  short  inter- 
nal conflict.  "Not  by  my  father's  will,  that  is 
to  say.  He  felt  an  interest  in  Owen,  on  poor 
papa's  account:  and  he's  done  what  he  could  for 
him  ever  since:  so  we  call  him  his  guardian," 

"Oh,  indeed!  Is  he  rich?"  Pointblank  at 
Sacha's  head,  as  only  a  woman  of  good  society 
would  dare  to  pose  the  question. 

"I  don't  know,  he  never  showed  me  his  in- 
come-tax return.  I  should  say  that  was  a  ques- 
tion entirely  between  himself  and  the  Commis- 
sioners of  Inland  Revenue." 

It  was  straight  from  the  shoulder  as  Sacha 
knew  how  to  hit.  But  Lady  Beaumont  sat  still 
and  took  it  stailing,  not  being  quick  enough  or 


ERS. 

and  restrained 

abject  you  don't 
instinctively,  as 
mere.  When  a 
her  curiosity's 
8  you  to  go  on 
5  she  finds  you 
Lady  Beaumont 
about  Mr.  Hay- 
her  hard  with 
hat's  known  hs 
ler's  guardian," 
nt's  pause.  "I 
it  friend  of  your 

tibly :  but  Lady 
Not  exactly  his 
»r  a  short  inter- 
jr's  will,  that  is 

Owen,  on  poor 
aat  he  could  for 

his  guardian." 
Pointblank  at 
of  good  society 
1. 

iwed  me  his  in- 
that  was  a  ques- 
nd  the  Commis- 

oulder  as  Sacha 
saamont  sat  still 
quick  enough  or 


UNPER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


87 


agile  enough  indeed  to  dodge  it  lightly.  "Well, 
(loos  he  seem  rich,  then?"  she  persisted,  as  un- 
perturbed as  if  Sacha  were  charmed  with  her 
conversation.  "Does  he  spend  money  freely? 
Does  he  live  well  and  handsomely?" 

"He  spends  very  little  ou  himself,  I  should 
say,"  Srkcha  answered,  somewhat  curtly;  "and 
a  great  deal  upon  other  people.  But  he's  not  a 
(■  >mmunicativo  man.  If  you  want  to  know  all 
about  him,  why  not  ask  him  direct?  You  did, 
you  know,  about  the  photographer's  shop  iu 
Bond  Street."  "     ^  v  /"   ... 

Lady  Beaumont  looked  up  at  her  with  a  face 
of  iripassive  scrutiny.  For  so  young  "a  woman, 
this  painting  girl,  was  really  most  self-paisessed. 
But  the  county  member's  wife  was  not  to  be  sat 
upon  by  an  artist,  however  large  and  well-built. 
"Owen's  going  into  the  diplomatic  service,  I 
think  Miss  Cazalet  told  me,"  she  began  again 
after  a  strategic  pause. 

"Into  the  diplomatic  service.  Yes.  If  he  can 
f^et  in,"  Sacha  admitted  grudgingly;  for  she 
hated  to  let  out  any  further  information. 

Lady  Beaumont  poked  her  parasol  into  the 
turf  at  her  feet  and  egged  out  a  root  of  grass  or 
two  in  a  meditative  fashion.  "It's  a  curious 
service  for  a  young  man  to  go  in  for,  unless  he'ti 
really  rich,  or  at  the  very  least  has  expectations 
in  the  future,"  she  remarked  in  the  air,  ab- 
stractedly. "They  get  no  pay  at  all,  you  know, 
for  the  first  two  or  three  years;  and  they  must 
spend  more  as  aWacftc's  than  their  salary  amounts 
to." 


38 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


"So  I  believe,"  Sacha  replied,  without  remov- 
ing a  muscle  of  that  handsome  round  face  of 
hers.  "It's  a  service  for  rich  young  men,  I'vo 
always  been  given  to  understand.  A  career, 
not  a  livelihood.  Honor  and  glory,  not  filthy 
lucre." 

"Then  why  does  Owen  go  in  for  it?"  Lady 
Beaumont  asked,  straight  out,  with  that  persist- 
ent inquisitiveness  which  some  women  of  the 
world  think  so  perfectly  becoming. 

"I  don't  know,"  Sacha  replied.  "He  is  of 
Hge.  Ask  him.  Perhaps  it  may  be  because  Mr. 
Hay  ward  wishes  it." 

"Oh!"  Lady  Beaumont  said  shortly.  She'd 
got  what  she  wanted  now.  A  rich  relation,  no 
doubt,  of  whom  they  were  all  ashamed,  and 
whose  money  they  expected  to  get,  while  dis- 
owning his  business. 

The  talk  glided  off  by  degrees  into  other  chan- 
nels. By-and-by  Aunt  Julia  and  Mr.  Hayward 
returned.  They  brought  with  them  a  third  per- 
son— that  Brazilian  from  Bahia  with  the  very 
curly  hair  who  was  stopping  with  the  Fergus- 
sons  at  Ashley  Towers.  Mr.  Hayyard  was  dis- 
coursing with  him  in  very  fluent  French.  At 
that,  Lady  Beaumont  pricked  her  ears  up  to 
hear  what  he  said.  She  couldn't  follow  it  all — 
her  ear  for  spoken  French  was  still  a  trifle  un- 
trained— but  she  heard  a  good  deal,  and  took  the 
rest  in  instinctively  (which  is  why  women  learn 
languages  so  much  quicker  than  men).  "Perfect- 
ly, monsieur,"  the  mysterious  photographer  was 
remarking  in  that  clear  bell-like  voice  of  his. 


DBRS. 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


39 


,  without  remov- 
le  rouud  face  of 
young  men,  I've 
baud.  A  career, 
glory,  not  filthy 

u  for  it?"  Lady 

with  that  persist- 

le  women  of  the 

ling. 

lied.     "He  is  of 

ly  bo  because  Mr. 

I  shortly.     She'd 

rich  relation,  no 

U   ashamed,    and 

3  get,  while  dis- 

s  into  other  cban- 
md  Mr.  Hayward 
fchem  a  third  per- 
ia  with  the  very 
with  the  Fergus- 
[ayY^'ard  was  dis- 
lent  French.  At 
i  her  ears  up  to 
a't  follow  it  all — 
B  still  a  trifle  un- 
ieal,  and  took  the 
ivhy  women  learn 
nmen).  "Perfect- 
photographer  was 
ilke  voice  of  his. 


"This  is  an  age  of  trains  de  luxe.  To  live  in 
the  world,  to-day,  yoa  must  follow  the  world  as 
it  flits,  across  four  flying  continents.  It's  a 
common  British  mistake  of  ours  to  suppose  the 
universe  stops  short  at  the  English  Channel. 
Error,  error,  error.  It  even  extends  beyond 
Paris  and  Switzerland.  Most  Englishmen  fancy 
they  know  the  world  if  they  know  London, 
Brighton,  Ascot,  Scarborough,  Newmarket. 
For  my  part,  M.  le  Comte,  early  acquaintance 
with  the  continent  saved  me,  happily,  from  that 
inexact  idea.  I  know  that  if  you  want  to  keep 
up  with  the  movement,  you  must  march  with  it 
iis  it  marches— at  Vichy  to-day;  at  Baden-Baden 
to-morrow;  at  Nice,  Monte  Carlo,  Pau,  Carls- 
bad, the  next  day.  So  I  took  the  hint  and  fol- 
lowed up  your  ex-emperor  from  Cannes  to  Al- 
giers, till  I  caught  him  at  last  on  the  slope  of 
^lustaphor  Superieur."  The  rest,  she  couldn't 
hear.  It  was  but  a  passing  snatch  as  he  strolled 
by  her  chair.  But  it  was  enough  at  least  to 
impress  Lady  Beaumont  profoundly  with  the 
sense  of  Mr.  Hayward's  prodigious  mastery  of 
collcquial  French,  and  astonishing  ease  in  fram- 
ing his  thoughts  into  words  in  all  languages 
equally. 

Was  he  a  Frenchman,  then,  she  wondered, 
and  was  that  why  his  r's  had  that  peculiar  trill 
in  them? 

To  be  sure,  an  acute  Parisian'  ear  (like  yours 
and  mine,  dear  reader)  might  have  noticed  at 
once  that  as  in  English  Mr.  Hayward  trilled  his 
r's,  so  in  French  his  art's,  his  eiVs  and  his  o»'s 


80 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


were  very  ill  distindfiiished.  But  then,  Lady 
Beaumont  hadn't  had  our  educiitionul  advan- 
tHgcs.  To  hor  dull  English  ear.  his  spoken 
Fiviich  WHH  exactly  a  Frenchman's. 

As  she  sat  and  jxindered,  Owen  strolled  up  to 
the  ^roup  looking  jiflorious  in  his  running  clothes 
—  a  young  Greek  god,  hot  and  flusheil  fnmi  his 
victories.  Even  on  Sacha's  placid  face  a  ruddy 
spot  of  pleasure  glowed  bright  as  her  brother 
drew  near,  like  a  statue  come  to  life;  while  as 
for  Mr.  Hay  ward,  he  stepped  forward  to  meet  the 
hero  of  the  day  with  such  graceful  cordiality  as 
a  prince  might  show  to  one  of  his  noblest  sul)- 
jents.  "My  dear  boy,"  he  said,  laying  his  hand 
on  the  young  man's  shoulder  with  a  half  cares-s- 
ing  movement,  "you  won  that  mile  splendidly. 
'Twas  a  magnificent  spurt.  I  was  proud  of  ymi 
PH  I  looked  at  you,  Owen;  very  proud  of  you  an 
I  looked  at  you." 

Lady  Beaumont's  steely  eyes  were  turned  on 
the  pair,  watching  warily. 

"Thatik  you,  Mr.  Hayward,"  the  young  man 
answered  in  a  modest  tone  but  with  genuine 
pleasure,  as  an  affectionate  boy  Qiight  answer 
ins  father.  "If  you're  pleased,  that's  all  I  want. 
But.  I  hope  you  didn't  mind  my  not  meeting 
you  at  the  station." 

"Mind!"  Mr.  Hayward  repeated  quickly. 
"Mind!  Why,  I  should  have  been  most  grieved, 
my  boy,  if  yoii'd  missed  one  fraction  of  these 
sports  ou  my  account.  But  Sacha  knew  best. 
One  can  always  trust  Sacha.  She  explained 
to  me  when  we  met,  and  I  agreed  with  her  en- 


>ER8. 

But  then,  Lady 
ucjitionul  advan- 

ear,  his  spoken 
mn's. 

von  strolled  up  to 
8  running  clothes 
I  fluslieil  from  his 
acid  face  a  ruddy 
t  as  her  brother 
to  life;  while  as 
rward  to  meet  the 
eful  cordiality  as 
f  his  noblest  sul)- 
,  laying  his  hand 
ith  a  half  caress- 

miio  splendidly, 
was  proud  of  yoii 
y  proud  of  you  as 

(8  were  turned  on 

"  the  young  man 
but  with  genuine 
oy  flaight  answer 

that's  all  I  want. 

my  not  meeting 

epeated  quickly, 
leen  most  grieved, 
fraction  of  these 
5acha  knew  best. 
She  explained 
reed  with  her  en- 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


81 


tiroly.  To  see  you  win  such  a  magnificent  lot 
of  prizes  as  this  is  all  I  ask  of  you." 

"But  his  work?"  Aunt  Julia  suggested, 
aghast;  "his  books,  his  readiiig,  Mr.  Hayward? 
Don't  you  think  these  things  tend  to  unsettle  a 
young  man  tor  examinations?" 

Mr.  Hayward  turned  round  ami  gazetl  blandly 
and  benignly  at  her.  "I  should  have  read  Owen's 
character  very  ill,  indeed,"  ho  said,  with  a  curi- 
ous smile,  "if  I  thought  anything  could  unsettle 
iiira  from  a  resolve  once  made.  He's  true  as 
steel,  is  Owen.  If  you  want  men  to  do  well, 
first  begin  by  trusting  them.  That's  the  free- 
man's way.  The  other  is  both  the  curse  and 
the  nemesis  of  despotism." 

What  a  veiy  odd  man.  Lady  Beaumont  the  ught 
to  herself;  and  how  sententiously  he  spoke. 
What  a  bore,  too,  if  you  saw  much  of  him.  For 
women  of  Lady  Beaumont's  type  invariably 
think  anybody,  a  dreadful  bore  who  makes  a 
geuerab'zed  remark,  or  who  talks  about  any- 
thing else  in  heaven  or  earth  but  the  gossip  of 
the  naiTow  little  set  they  mix  in.    . 


-•.-'.»' 


CHAPTER  IV. 


^i#-' 


•    *y.       DIPIiOMATIC   DISCIPLINE. 

An  hour  or  two  later,  they  were  taking  tea  to- 
gether in.Sacha's  sacred  studio,  at  the  round  table 
made  out  of  the  Cairene  wood- work  stand  sur- 


11 


89 


VNDKR   SRALKD   ORDBRS. 


mounted  by  the  old  M()oriH!i  c-hiised  brsiss  tray 
tlmt  Mr.  Hnywiird  had  brouj^hthrr  on  one  of  his 
voynfft*  to  TuniH. 

Tho  trHrtsuroH  of  tho  housoboUl,   indeeil,  hud 
bet'n  rHnHackeil  to  do  honor  to  Mr.  Hftywurd. 
Aunt  Juliu  had  brought  out  the  bo8t  silver  ton 
pot  with  the  Caznlot  arms  on  it,  and  tho  Geargr 
tho  Third  ap/Stlo  sjwons  that  belonged    to   her 
grandmother    fifty    yearrt    ago    in    DevonHliire. 
Co«^k  hud  produced  some  of  hor  famous  brown 
rollR,  and  had  BurpHHsed  hor  well-known  skill  in 
the   home-made   msks  and   buttered    Canadimi 
t<*H-oake.'     Martha's    little    French    cap    was 
crimped  and  starched  with  unwonted  c^re,  and 
hor  apron  with  the  white  laeo  was  oven  mor;: 
spotless  thau  usual.     Sachu  herself  had  put  the 
very  daintiest  of  her  sketches  on  tho  easel  by  thf 
square  bay  window  and  festooned  fresh  Hprays  of 
trailing  clematis  and  long  stems  of  wild  br3'ony 
from  the  Venetian  bowl  in   hammered   copper 
that  hung  by  a  wrought-iron  chain  from  a  staple 
in  the  corner.     The  studio,  in  short,  waa  as  pict- 
uresque as  Sacha  knew  how  to  make  it;  for  Mr. 
Hay  ward's  visits  weio  few  and  far.between,  and 
all  the  household  made  the  more  of  them  for  tho 
rarity  of  their  occurrence. 

Yet  a  certain  visible  constraint  brooded  over  the 
whole  party  none  the  less  while  they  drank  their  tea 
out  of  Sacha's  Satsuma  cups,  for  it  was  an  under- 
stood thing  that  Mr.  Hay\vard  never  came  down 
to  Moor  Hill  except  for  some  good  and  sufficient 
reason;  and  what  that  reason  might  be,  nobody 
liked  to  ask  him;  though,  till  he  chose  to  disclose 


,1  W    IW'liHn^i"  "I 


m/  '  ■!  m» 


)BR8. 


UNDER  SEALED  0HDER8. 


Iiiised  briU99  tray 
hop  on  one  of  his 

i»lil,  intleeil,  hud 
)  Mr.  Haywitrd. 
e  boHt  silver  ton- 

and  the  Geargi 
belongeil    to   her 

in  Devonshire. 
»r  famous  brown 
11-known  skill  in 
ttered  Canadiiui 
'rench  cap  was 
/vonted  c<jire,  and 

was  oven  mor;' 
self  had  put  the 
1  the  easel  by  the 
)d  fresh  sprays  of 
i  of  wild  bryony 
ammered  copper 
ain  from  a  staple 
hort,  was  as  p.jt- 
make  it;  for  Mr. 
far.between,  and 
•e  of  them  for  the 

t  brooded  over  the 
ley  drank  their  tea 
p  it  was  an  under- 
never  came  down 
ood  and  sufficient 
might  be,  nobody 
9  chose  to  disclose 


it  himself,  thoy  sat  on  tenterhooks  of  painful  ex- 
jH'ctation. 

At  last,  however,  Mr.  Hayward  laid  down  his 
cii|),  and  turned  for  a  moment  to  Owen.  ^ 

"And  now,  my  boy,"  he  said  (piietly,  as  though 
i'VL>ryl):>dy  know  beforohaud  the  plan  he  was 
^')iiig  to  propose,  "will  you  be  ready  to  set  out 
witli  mo — to-morrow  morning?"        '/«  ,s 

"Certainly,"  Owen  answered  at  once,  with  a 
(,'roat  air  of  alacrity.  "To-night,  if  you  like.  I 
(':m  go  and  pack  my  portmanteau  this  minute, 
if  necessary.     Or  start  without  it." 

Mr.  Hnyward  smiled  approval.  "That's 
right,"  he  said,  nodding  assent.  "Quite  right, 
as  far  as  it  goes,  and  shows  promptitude  in  some 
ways.  I'd  half  a  mind  to  telegraph  to  you  yes- 
terday to  come  up  then  and  there,  just  to  test 
your  obedience.  But  I'm  glad  now  I  didn't.  It 
would  have  grieved  me  to  have  done  you  out  of 
this  morning's  triumphs.  This  is  all  so  good  for 
you." 

"If  you  had,"  Owen  said  simply,  "I'd  have 
come  straight  up,  of  course,  though  it  would 
iiave  been  a  wrench,  I  don't  deny.  But  it's 
wrenches,  after  all,  that  are  the  true  test  of  dis- 
cipline." 

Mr.  Hayward  smiled  once  more.  "Quite  so," 
he  answered  with  evident  pleasure.  "You're  a 
{,'ood  -boy,  Owen — a  boy  after  my  own  heart. 
And  in  moat  things,  I  approve  of  you.  But  re- 
member, point  de  zSle.  Zeal  often  spoils  every- 
thing. That  was  unnecessary  that  you  said  just 
uow,  'To-nightj  if  you  like';  nobody  asked  you 


VNDBR  SBALBD  ORDBBM. 


I 


to  j?()  to-niKht.  I  Hrtiil,  tivmorr»)«r  morninf?.  A 
wnll-trHiiit'd  HuhordiimU)  miMWiTH,  •OorUunly;  at 
whiit  hoiiry'  but  nover  HUKKCHtn  to-night.  That's 
U)  piirt  of  hiH  province."  He  pauHed  for  a  mo 
mont  and  f/^n/xiA  hard  with  w^arching  eyes  iil 
SiicliH.  "ThoHothiniufH  areimpi>rtnnt,"  hoaddml, 
miiHiiij;,  "us  diHinpUoHry  preparation  for  the  dip- 
loiiuitio  Horvioo."         ''».'•'     -.  'Jf  ;<^ 

"I'll  romemobor  it,  Mr.  Haywanl,"  Owoii 
aiiHWHrod  mihTniftsivoly. 

"For  tlie  diphnnatic  Bwrvico,"  Mr.  Haywanl 
went  on,  "a  man  n(jedif»,  for  the  moHt  fnirt,  not. 
zeal,  but  discrotion.  Zealous  suboniinateH  you 
can  find  any  day  in  the  »treetH  by  the  dozen ;  a 
dirtcireet  one,  you  niny  Hoaroh  for  over  two-thinls 
of  Europe.  Obetlientre  you've  learned  already, 
my  boy;  discretion  you've  gi>t  to  learn  now. 
No  oflPering  to  go  and  paek  your  portmanteau  iit 
,on(«;  it  isn't  demanded  of  you;  atill  less  with 
protostationa  of  willingnews  to  start  withont 
one." 

He  spoke  austerely,  bnt  kindly,  with  a  tender, 
fatherly  ring  in  his  voice,  like  one  who  wouM 
correct  a  fault  without  giving  no^dloBS  pain  to 
the  pupil.  "T  see,"  Owen  answered,  abashetl. 
"T  was  wrong,  of  eaurse.  I  ought  to  have  gone 
without  a  portmanteau  at  once,  if  you  summoned 
me;  but  not  have  effusively  offered  to  go  with- 
ont one  when  I  wasn't  called  upon  to  do  so." 

Mr.  Hay  ward's  eyes  sparkled  with  suppretiseil 
pride  and  pleasure.  A  very  apt  pupil,  this, 
quick  to  accept  reproof  where  he  saw  it  was  de- 
served, and  to  mend  his  ways  accordingly.     He 


'  ,j^^ta»«ife^£^feSla<^gfeft&iA^  ■? 


)KB». 


tNDlClt  HKALED  UKDERH. 


«0 


i)wr  morninff.  A 
rt,  •OorUunly;  nf 
;o-night.  ThHt'-* 
pauHed  for  h  mo 
ftrching  eyetj  iil 
rtfint,"  hoaddnd, 
utiun  fur  the  (tip 

iiywranl,"    Owon 

,"  Mr.  HuywHftl 
ke  inoHl:  fxirt,  not 
lubonHnateH  yoii 
by  the  dozen;  a 
r  over  two- thiols 
Irnnied  already, 
>t  to  learn  now. 
r  portniitnt«'au  at 
u;  atill  1»!S8  with 
o    start    without 

y,  with  a  tender, 

one  who  woiiM 

needless  pain  to 

Hwered,  abashed. 

ight  to  have  gano 

if  you  summoned 

ffered  to  go  with- 

)on  to  do  so. ' ' 

[  with  suppresseil 

apt  pupil,    this, 

16  saw  it  was  de- 

iccordingly.     He 


l;iid  Hint  friendly  hand  upon  the  young  mtin's 
hhoiddtsr  agiiiii.  *'giiito  right,  Oweu,"  hn  niid. 
"  Voii'll  niako  a  diplomat  yet  I  ....  Wu  hIuiH 
WH  him  umbuswidor  at  Con.Htantinoplo  boforo  we 
(I in,  MiHs  C'azalct.  .  .  .  Hut  you  liavon't  uHkud 
yet  whoro  you'ro  to  go  to,  uiy  boy.  Don't  you 
want  t)  know  about  ity" 

Owon  hcHitati'd  a  tnoiriout.  "I  thought  dis- 
citlion  dictati'd  that  I  HJiould  wait  till  T  was 
t  tid,"  h«  aUHWortsd  after  a  long  pauso,  during 
which  HacJia's  eyes  wlto  fixed  firndy  upon  him. 

Tlio  Bond  Strotit  ph  )tograj»hor  smiled  that 
;4iauge  Hmilo  of  hucc(ihh  and  HatiHfi'u^tion  onco 
more.  "Riglit  agnin,  my  boy,"  he  waid,  well 
pleasod.  "Vou  answer  as  you  ought  to  do. 
Then  you  shall  know  your  destination  to- 
morrow evening." 

Aunt  Julia  gave  a  little  start  of  surprise  aud 
ivijrot.  "But  aren't  we  to  know  where  he's  go- 
iii(,',  Mr.  Hay  ward!"  she  cried.  "Aren't  we  to 
know  where  we  can  write  to  him!" 

Mr.  Hayward  turned  round  upon  her  with  a 
coldly  contemptuous  look  in  his  keen  brown  eyes. 
His  manner  toward  Aunt  Julia  was  always 
markedly  different  from  his  marmer  to  Owen  and 
Sacha.  Its  stately  courtesy  never  t^uite  succeeded 
ill  concealing  the  undercurrent  of  contempt  for 
the  district  visitor  within  her.  "It  was  in  our 
bargain,"  he  said,  "Miss  Cazalet — which  Owen  at 
loHst  has  always  loyally  kept — tliat  I  might  take 
him  for  a  mouth  at  a  time,  twice  a  year,  when  I 
chose,  to  live  with  me  or  travel  with  me  where- 
ever  I  liked,  in  order  to  retain  such  a  hold  as  I 


86 


UNDER   BEA'-iCD  ORDERS. 


desired  both  over  his  education  and  over  his  char- 
acter and  aflfections.  It  was  never  specified  that 
I  should  tell  you  beforehand  when  or  where  it 
Kuited  me  he  should  pass  those  two  months  with 
me.  It  was  only  arranged  that  at  the  end  cf 
each  such  holiday  I  should  restore  liim  once 
more  to  your  own  safe- keeping.  Two  months 
out  of  twelve  is  surely  not  excessive  for  mo  to 
ask  for  myself — especially  as  Ow6n  is  happiest 
when  he's  away  on  his  trips  with  me." 

The  tears  came  up  into  Aunt  Julia's  eyes. 
Long  since  she  had  repented  of  that  mo.st  doubt- 
ful bargain.  She  ,even  wondered  at  times 
whether  Mr.  Hayward  was  some  modern  em- 
bodiment of  Mephistopheles,  and  whether  bhc 
had  sold  Owen's  soul  to  him,  as  Esau  sold  iiis 
birthright,  for  a  mess  of  pottage.  It  frightene  1 
iier  when  she  heard  him  talk  so  much  of  nmnini; 
about  Europe  in  trains  de  luxe.  It  reminded 
her  always  of  the  Book  of  Job,  and  of  the  High 
Personage  who  presented  himself  at  the  court  of 
Heaven  "from  going  to  and  fro  in  the  earth,  and 
from  walking  up  and  down  in  it." 

"I  should  certainly  have  liked  to  kuow  when; 
Oweirwas  likely  to  be,'*  Aunt  Julia  murmureil. 
struggling  liard  with  her   voice  and  her  teai  - 
"It's  a  pull  to  give  him  up  without  even  know 
ing  whero  he'i  gone  to." 

Ower.  turned  to  her  tenderly.  "Well,  but. 
Auntie,"  he  said  in  hismajily  voice,  always  full 
of  English  cheeriness,  "j'ou  know  I  won't  got 
into  any  harm  with  Mr.  Hayward ;  and  for  my- 
self, I  x-aally  like  best  the  element  of  adventure 


>RDERS. 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


37 


ti  and  over  his  char- 
never  specified  that 

when  or  where  it 
86  two  months  with 
tliat  at  the  end  cf 

restore  him  once 
ing.  Two  months 
(xcessive  for  mo  to 
s  Ow6n  is  happiest 
witli  me." 
Aunt  Julia's  eyes, 
of  that  most  doubt- 
irondered    at    times 

some  modern  eni- 
,  and  whether  bIk- 
im,  as  Esau  sold  liis 
tage.  It  frightene  1 
so  much  of  running; 
luxe.  It  remindeii 
ob,  and  of  the  High 
aself  at  the  court  of 
fro  in  the  earth,  aiu] 
n  it." 

liked  to  know  whero 
nt  Julia  murmured, 
oice  and  her  teair. 
vithout  even  know- 

lerly.  "Well,  but. 
ly  voice,  always  full 
I  know  I  won't  get 
yward;  and  for  my- 
Lement  of  adventure 


and  surprise— the  never  knowing  till  I  get  there 
whore  it  is  I'm  going  to." 

The  love  of  adventure  and  surprise,  however, 
is  poorly  developed  in  the  British  old  maid  or  in 
the  British  matron.  But  Mr.  Hay  ward  had  car- 
ried his  point,  and  could  afford  to  relent  now. 
"Go  upstairs,  Owen,"  he  said,  "and  put  your 
things  together  at  once.  I'm  not  sure,  after  all, 
I  won't  start  off  this  evening."  . .:  "      • 

"And  we've  got  dinner  for  you,  and  every- 
thing!" Aunt  Julia  exclaimed  appealiiigly. 
She'd  made  a  cream  pudding.  Her  housewifely 
heai-t  WHS  stirred  to  its  depth  by  this  bitter  dis- 
appointment. 

But  Owen  ran  upstairs  with  cheerful  promp- 
titude. It  was  clear  Mr.  Haywai'd  had  a  very 
lirm  iiold  over  him — a  hold  gained  not  so  much 
by  command  as  by  affection.  As  soon  .  s  ho 
was  gone,  their  visitor  closed  the  door  behind 
liim.  "Miss  Cazalet,"  he  said  ia  that  clear  and 
very  musical  voice  of  his,  "I'y.e  never  been  un- 
reasonable. I  made  a  bargain  with  you  and 
Owen  for  Owen's  clear  advantage;  but  I've 
never  abused  it.  "While  he  was  at  school,  I  took 
care  not  to  break  in  upon  his  terms;  I  even  al- 
lowed his  schooling  to  take  precedence  of  his  ed- 
ucation; I  only  claimed  him  in  the  holidays,  and 
then  he  learned  more  from  me  in  these  two  short 
months  than  in  the  other  ten  from  his  Iwaks  and 
his  masters.  Since  he  left  school,  I've  been  mote 
irregular,  but  always  for  a  good  reason.  I've 
a  good  reason  now,  though  I  dca't  choose  to 
communicate  it.   '  However,  I  don't  mind  telling 


38 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


\ 


you  privately  where  I'm  going,  if  you  and  Alex- 
andra— I  beg  your  pardon,  ny  child ;  Sacha,  I 
mean  —  won't  mention  it  to   Owen   btforo  we 

start I'm  contemplating  a  month's  tour 

in  the  mountains  of  Morocco." 

Aunt  Julia  drew  a  deep  breath  of  relief.  Sho 
knew  nothing  about  jMorocco,  to  be  sure,  except 
the  l)are  name;  and  she  had  a  vague  idea  that 
tho  majority  of  its  inhabitants  were  engaged  in 
the  book-binding  trade  and  th  >  ex  >o^ntion  of 
leather;  but  it  /'as  a  comfort  to  uer,  all  the 
same,  to  know  exactly  on  the  map  where  Owen 
was  going  to.  "Morocco,"  she  reflected,  much 
consoled.  ^"Morocco.  Morocco.  And  shall  wo 
be  able  to  write  to  him  while  he's  gone?  Will 
you  give  us  your  address  there?"  '■■    • 

"There'll  be  no  address,"  Mi.  Hay  ward  an- 
swered curtly.     "No  address  of  any  sort." 

"Not  evenooste  restante?^^  Aunt  Julia  inter- 
posed.        .,'..  '  -         .  ..■.'' 

Mr.  Hay  ward  smiled,  a  bnmd  smile.  "Net 
iixan poste  restafite,'"  he  replied,  unbending  iit 
the  bare  idea.  "Wo  shall  be  up  in  the  moun- 
tains all  the  time,  among  pathless  wilds,  ar  •'  fa 
small  native  villages.  Posts  are  unknown  •  . 
inns  of  any  sort  unheard  of.  I  want  to  do  b.;. 
photography  of  the  untouched  Moorish  world,  b> 
I  shall  make  at  once  fur  the  remotest  interior." 

"Owen  will  like  that!"  Sacha  put  in,  well 
pleased.  "It'll  exactly  suit  him,  There'll  be 
mountain  climbing,  cf  course,  and  as  he  says, 
an  element  of  excitement  and  adventure." 

"Proeisely,"  Mr.  Hay  ward  answered;  "that's 


SRS. 

f  you  aud  Alex- 
child;  Sacha,  I 

weu  before  we 
a  month's  tour 

I  of  relief.     She 

be  sure,  except 

vague  idea  that 

vere  engaged  in 

'  e>  )o^'ition  of 

to  uer,   all  the 

lap  where  Ow^en 

reflected,  much 

Aud  bluill  wo 

e's  gone?     Will 

» 

I.  Hayward  an- 

anj'  sort." 

Lunt  Julia  inter- 

d  smile.     "Net 
d,  unbending  ut 
ip  in  the  moun- 
;s8  wilds,  ar  il  la 
e  unknown,  tu  < 
wa7it  to  do  Svj; ; 
[oorish  world,  b. 
lotest  interior." 
ha  ptit  in,   well 
m,     There'll   be 
and  as  he  says, 
i venture." 
Qswered;  "that's 


UNDER   SEALED  ORDERS. 


39 


just  why  I'm  taking  him  there.  I  want  to  train 
his  body  and  mind  to  familiarity  with  danger. 
Your  father  was  a  brave  man,  Sacha.  I  want 
( )\ven  to  be  like  him." 

"Owen  is,"  Sacha  said  proudly.  "As  brave 
tis  they're  made.  He  takes  after  his  father  in 
that.  Or  else  your  training's  been  successful." 
'Well,  it's  a  comfort  to  think,  anyhow,  that 
if  anything  goes  wrong  in  Morocco  while  he's , 
there,"  Aunt  Julia  said  with  a  sigh,  "we  shall 
know  at  least  that  dear  Owen's  in  the  midst  of 
it."  Which  is  a  feminine  form  of  delight,  but 
a  very  common  one. 


CHAPTER  V. 

CHERCHEZ   LA  FBMMB. 

Guardian  and  ward  stood  on  the  deck  of  a 
Cunard  -Mediterranean  liner  before  Owen  had 
an  inkling  of  their  real  destination.  This  uncer- 
tainty, indeed,  exactly  suited  his  adventurous 
athlete  mind.  He  liked  to  set  out  hot  knowing 
whitht.r  he  was  bound,  and  to  wake  up  some  fine 
morning  in  a  new  world  of  wonders.  Overflow- 
ing with  life  and  youth  and  health  and  spirits, 
he  found  in  such  a  tourist  surprise- party  an  irre- 
sistible attraction.  He  was  wafted  to  his  Bag- 
dad as  on  some  enchanted  carpet.  It  would  have 
spoiled  half  the  fun  for  him  if  he  knew  before- 
hand where  he  was  going,  or  why ;  and,  besides. 


40 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS 


with  Mr.  Hay  ward  he  was  always  happy.    He 
preferred  this  sailing  under  sealed  orders. 

Oh,  the  change  to  him,  since  boyhood  up- 
ward, from  Aunt  Julia's  petticoat  regime  and 
perpetual  old-maidish  restraint  at  the  Red  Cot- 
tage to  the  freedom  and  breeziness  of  Mr.  Hay- 
ward's  holiday !  For  IMr.  Hay  ward  had  designed 
it  so  —  and  had  succeeded  admirably.  A  boy 
hates  to  live  under  a  woman's  restrictions,  and 
loves  to  have  a  man  in  authority  over  him.  Mr. 
Hay  ward  took  advantage  of  that  natural  instinct 
of  boy  psychology  to  bir-'i  Owen  to  himself  by 
strong  ties  of  affection  .  and  gratitude.  With 
Aunt  Julia,  education  was  one  long  categorical 
"Don't" ;  her  sole  part  of  speech  was  tlie  impera- 
tive negative.  Don't  try  to  climb  trees;  don't 
speak  in  that  wise;  don't  play  with  those  rude 
boys;  don't  wear  out  your  shoes  or  the  knees  of 
your  knickerbockers.  With  Mr.  Hayward,  on 
the  contrary,  education  .consisted  in  a  constant 
endeavor  to  find  out  and  encourage  every  native 
instinct :  if  that  pleases  you,  my  boy,  w.hy,  do  it 
by  all  means;  if  that  irks  you,  never  mind,  you 
can  get  on  in  the  end  very  well  without  it.  From 
Mr.  Hayward  or  with  Mr.  Hayward  Owen  had 
learned  French  at  odd  times  without  being  con- 
scious of  learning  it ;  he  had  learned  history  and 
politics  and  knowledge  of  common  things:  optics 
and  photography,  and  all  the  allied  arts  and 
sciences ;  geography  in  action ;  a  mass  of  general 
information,  taken  in  at  the  pores,  and  all  the 
more  valuable  because  acquired  con  amove. 
That  was  what  Mr.    Hayward  meant  by  "not 


ERS 

lys  happy. 
)d  orders. 
ce  boyhood  up- 
oat  regime  and 
at  the  Red  Cot- 
less  of  Mr.  Hay- 
ird  had  designed 
lirably.     A  boy 
restrictions,  and 
over  him.     Mr. 
,  natural  instinct 
an  to  himself  by 
ratitude.      With 
long  categorical 
was  tlie  impera- 
imb  trees;  don't 
with  those  rude 
ss  or  the  knees  of 
T.  Hayward,  on 
ad  in  a  constant 
age  every  native 
T  boy,  w.hy,  do  it 
never  mind,  you 
ithout  it.     From 
5^ ward  Owen  had 
thout  being  con- 
irned  history  and 
on  things :  optics 
I  allied  arts  and 
a  mass  of  general 
lores,  and  all  the 
red   con  amove. 
I  meant  by  "not 


iiii'jtiiM;j'ilwwwwiL_____ 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDER8. 


41 


allowing  his  schooling  to  interfere  with  his  edu- 
cation." The  boy  had  learned  most  and  learned 
best  in  his  holidays. 

Obedience,  if  you  will ;  yes,  Mr.  Hayward  de- 
sired tht/  promptest  obedience.  But  it  was  the 
willing  obedience  the  disciple  renders  of  his  own 
accord  to  the  master  he  adores,  not  the  slavish 
obedience  a  broken  spirit  tenders  to  a  desptitic 
martinet.  Liberty  first,  order  afterward.  Mr. 
Hayward  would  rather  ten  thousand  times  see 
Owen  rebel  than  see  him  give  in  without  a  strug- 
gle to  unreasonable  authority.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  Owen  often  rebelled  against  Aunt  Julia's 
strict  rules,  and  when  he  did  so  Mr.  Hayward 
upheld  him  in  it  stoutly. 

On  this  particular  journey,  even  after  they  got 
outside  the  bar  of  the  Mersey,  Owen  had  still  no 
idea  whither  on  earth  they  were  bound,  save  that 
their  destination  was  somewhere  in  the  Mediter- 
ranean. He  learned  the  exact  place  by  accident. 
A  fellow  -  passenger,  leaning  over  the  taffrail, 
asked  Mr.  Hayward  carelessly : 

"Alexandria?"  ^  % 

"No,  Tangier,"  the  mysterious  man  answered. 
"My  friend  and  I  are  going  on  a  tour  in  the  Mo- 
rocco Mountains.  I  want  to  do  a  little  photog- 
raphy there — take  unhackneyed  Islam." 

Owen's  heart  leaped  op  at  the  sound,  but  he 
gave  no  overt  token.  Mountaineering  in  Mo- 
rocco! How  delightful !  How  romantic!  Arabs, 
Atlas,  Adventure !     The  very  thing  to  suit  him. 

"Dangerous  work,"  the  fellow-passenger  ob- 
served, with  a  lang^uid  yawn.     "Sketching  and 


42 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


m- 


photographing.  Shock  these  fellows'  religious 
prejudices.  And  Jedburgh  justice  is  the  rule. 
•Oflf  with  his  head/  says  the  Cadi." 

"So  I  hear,"  Mr.  Hayward  answered,  calmly. 
"They  tell  mo  you  mustn't  try  to  take  a  snap  at 
a  mosque,  in  particular,  unless  you  can  do  it  un- 
observed. If  the  natives  catch  you  at  it,  they're 
pretty  sure  to  resent  the  insult  to  their  religion 
and  cut  your  throat  as  a  work  of  unobtrusive 
piety." 

•'What  larks!"  Owen  thought  to  himself. 
"This  is  just  what  I  love.  A  spice  of  danger 
thrown  in!  And  I've  always  heard  the  Morocco 
people  are  fanatical  Mohammedans." 

And,  indeed,  be  enjoyed  his  first  week  or  two 
on  African  soil  immensely.  From  the  moment 
he  set  foot  in  Tangier — <bat  tangled  Tangier- 
he  found  himself  at  once  in  a  fairyland  of  mar- 
vels. More  eastern  than  the  East,  Morocco  still 
remains  free  from  the  vulgarizing  admixture  of  a 
foreign  element  which  spoils  Algiers  and  Cairo 
and  Constantinople.  But  Owen  had  never  touched 
on  Islam  at  all  before;  and  this  sudden  dip  into 
pure  Orient  at  one  plunge  was  to  him  a  unique 
and  glorious  experience.  He  was  sorry  to  tear 
himself  away  from  the  picturesque  narrow  alleys 
and  turbaned  Moors  of  Tangier  even  for  the  prom- 
ised delights  of  the  wild  interior.  But  Mr.  Hay- 
ward's  arrangements  for  his  tour  in  the  Atlas 
were  soon  completed ;  the  protection  of  the  Sheree- 
fian  umbrella  was  granted  in  due  form,  and  they 
set  out,  after  three  days,  for  the  mountains  of  the 
back  country. 


•'r "V^'' 


'■  1 1  'HI  I' I 


SBS. 

Uowb'  religious 
ice  is  the  rule. 
li." 

iswered,  calmly, 
o  take  a  snap  at 
ou  can  do  it  un- 
'ou  at  it,  they're 
to  their  religion 
of  unobtrusive 

5ht  to  himself, 
spice  of  danger 
lard  the  Morocco 
ms." 

Hrst  week  or  two 
•om  the  moment 
ugled  Tangier- 
airy  land  of  mar- 
ist,  Morocco  still 
ig  admixture  of  a 
Igiers  and  Cairo 
wl  never  touched 
sudden  dip  into 
to  him  a  unique 
r&a  sorry  to  tear 
[ue  narrow  alleys 
iven  for  the  prom- 
.  But  Mr.  Hay- 
our  in  the  Atlas 
ion  of  the  Sheree- 
le  form,  and  they 
mountains  of  the 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


43 


Owen  was  not  at  all  surprised  to  find,  as  they 
joiirneyetl  inland,  that  Mr.  Hayward  spoke  Arabic 
fluently.  On  the  contrary,  it  would  have  aston- 
ished him  much  more  if  his  guardian  had  proved 
ignorant  of  any  known  language,  Oriental  or 
Western.  Mr.  Hayward  cliatted  easily  with 
their  Moorish  escort,  a  soldier  of  the  Sultan's, 
as  they  marched  along,  single  file,  each  mounted 
ou  a  good  native  saddle-horse,  through  the  nar- 
row bridle-paths  which  constitute  the  sole  roads 
in  Morocco.  The  British  Consul  at  Tangier  had 
procured  them  tho  services  of  au  official  escort  and 
had  further  supplied  them  with  a  firman  from  his 
Shereefian  majesty,  enjc«ning  on  all  and  sundry 
to  show  them  on  their  way  every  respect  and 
kindness.  Trav^ing  ^vas  safe  in  the  interior 
just  now,  the  escort  assured  them;  for,  Allah 
be  praised!  the  Sultan's  health  was  excellent 
When  the  Sultan  wan  ill,  of  course,  it  was  very 
different :  things  got  unsettled  up-country  then, 
and  it  was  dangerous  for  foreigners  to  venture 
too  far  from  the  coast  and  their  consuls.  In 
Ramadan,  too,  during  the  month  <rf  fasting, 
Europeans  found  it  risky  to  travel  about  freely. 
"The  Faithful  of  the  towns  got  crusty  with  their 
enforced  abstinence,  and  their  religious  feelings 
were  deeply  stirred  at  that  ti-ne;  they  let  them 
loose, "  the  escort  remarked,  with  engaging  frank- 
ness, "on  the  passing  infidels.  Up  country,  yor 
see,  the  people  are  so  little  accostomed  to  foreign 
effendis;  at  Tangier  we  are  more  civilized;  we 
have  learned  to  make  trade  with  them. " 

It  had  been  hot  at  Tangier,  for  it  was  full  sum- 


■  M 


UNDER  BEALED  OBDBR8. 


r~ 


ff 


I 


mer  in  EuglaDd ;  but  up  on  the  high  mountains 
of  the  interior  they  found  the  season  cool  with  a 
spring-lik^  freshness.  Owen  never  enjoyed  any- 
thing better  than  that  free,  wild  life,  elimbiug 
crags  through  the  long  day,  camping  out  in  quaint 
Border  huts  through  the  short  nights,  with  none 
but  natives  and  their  cattle  for  society.  And  the 
danger  gave  it  zest;  for,  in  spite  of  the  Sultan's 
firman,  they  could  only  photograph  by  stealth, 
or  under  constant  peril  of  angry  and  hostile  ex- 
postulation. 

About  their  fifth  evening  out  from  Tangier, 
an  iiour  before  sunset,  as  they  were  sitting  in  the 
courtyard  of  a  rude  native  iim  at  a  place  called 
Aiu-Essa,  where  they  proposed  to  pass  the  night, 
as  guests  of  the  village,  tbey  were  surprised  by 
the  approach  of  a  pair  of  travelers  in  the  costume 
of  the  country.  One  was  a  handson^e  young 
man  in  an  embroidered  Moorish  jacket  and  loose 
white  trousers,  wearing  a  fez  on  his  head,  around 
which  protruded  great  fiuflfy  masses  of  luxuriant 
chestnut  hair,  reminding  one  somewhat  of  the 
cinque  -  cen(-«i  Florentines.  Though  not  more 
than  the  middle  height,  the  stranger  yet  looked 
tall  and*  well-made,  and  Owen  I'emarked  at  once 
with  a  professional  eye  that  he  had  in  him  the 
makings  of  a  very  tolerable  athlete.  The  other, 
who  seemed  his  servant,  was  an  older  and  heav- 
ily-bearded man,  clad  in  tlie  common  green  coat 
and  dirty  white  turban  lif  the  Moorish  groom  or 
stable- boy. 

The  younger  traveler  of  the  two  jumped  froni 
his  horse  very  lightly.     He  rode  well  and  sprang 


iCRS. 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


46 


ligh  mountains 
ison  cool  with  a 
er  enjoyed  any- 
d  life,  climbiug 
ing  out  in  quaint 
ghts,  with  none 
tciety.  And  the 
3  of  the  Sultan's 
■aph  by  stealth, 
'  and  hostile  ex- 
it from  Tangier, 
ire  sitting  in  the 
at  a  place  called 

0  pass  the  night, 
jre  surprised  by 
•8  in  the  costume 
landsome  young 
jacket  and  loose 
his  head,  around 
,sses  of  luxuriant 
iomewhat  of  the 
iiough  not  more 
'anger  yet  looked 
remarked  at  once 
i  had  in  him  the 
lete.     The  other, 

1  older  and  heav- 
mmon  green  coat 
loorish  groom  or 

wo  jumped  froni 
I  well  and  sprang 


with  ease,  like  an  accomplished  gymnast.  As 
he  tluug  hiH  roinstohis  servant,  he  said  in  decent 
French : 

^'Tiens,  take  my  horse,  Ali;  I'll  go  into  the 
nnhen/o  and  Hee  if  thoy  can  give  us  accommoda- 
tion this  evening." 

The  sound  of  a  European  tongue  in  that  re- 
mote mountain  village  took  Mr.  Hay  ward  aback. 
Ho  rose  from  the  divan  where  he  sat,  and  lift- 
ing his  hat  to  the  young  man,  crossed  over  to  the 
servant,  while  the  newcomer,  with  ea»y  assur- 
ance, strolled  into  the  front  room  of  the  native 
inn.  ^^ Monsieur  est  francais?"  he  asked  the 
man  who  had  been  addressed  as  Ali. 

The  Arab  shook  his  head.  "Non,  anglaise," 
1 10  answered,  curtly. 

"Anglais?"  Mr.  Hayward  corrected,  thinking 
Ali's  command  of  French  didn't  extend  as  far  as 
^"fenders,  and  that  he  had  substituted  the  feminine 
for  the  masculine  in  error. 

But  Ali  was  n:>t  to  be  shaken  so  lightly  from 
his  first  true  report.  "Non,  non,"  he  repeated, 
"Anglaise,  vous'dis-je;  anglaise,  anglaise,  an- 
glaise. It's  a  woman,  not  a  man.  It  pleases  hor 
t»  ride  about  through  the  interior  that  way." 

Owen  looked  up  quite  crestfallen.  "You  don't 
mean  to  say  she  travels  alone,  without  an  escort, 
with  nobody  to  take  care  of  her  except  you?"  he 
(isked  the  man  in  French. 

The  Algerian — for  he  was  one — nodded  a  quiet 
assent.  "  'Tis  mademoiselle's  fancy,"  he  said. 
"She  likes  to  go  her  own  way.  And  she  goes 
it,  I  can  tell   you.      Nobody  would    ever    ;r«t 


if 


f'  t 


Uf 


ii' 


t&^ 


46 


UNDER   SEALKU   UKDKKN. 


madomoiHellu  to  do  anytiiin^  hlio  didn't  want 
to." 

Owen  guKod  iippoiiliiigly  at  hiw  (j^uurdian. 
"This  i«  too  bad,  Mr.  llayward,"  ho  cried. 
"We've  a  Holdier  to  protect  u«.  And  a  girl 
goos  alouo.  Wu  imiHt  disniisH  our  oHcort.  U'h 
a  Hhanio  tor  uh  to  be  bwiteu  like  that  by  a 
woman." 

"You're  qiuto  right,"  Mr.  Hayward  antjwered. 
"If  hIio  can  go  aK)ne,  why,  so  can  wo.  I'll  dih- 
miss  our  man  to-morrow,  and  I'm  glad  you  took 

itBO." 

In  a  few  minutes  more  the  stranger  strolled 
out  casually  into  the  courtyard  again.  She  hml 
a  frank,  free  face,  yet  not  really  masculine,  when 
one  came  to  look  into  it;  and  the  great  crop  of 
loose  chestnut  hair,  blowing  iibaut  it  in  the 
breeze,  gave  it  a  very  marked  air  (rf  loose  grace 
and  carelessness. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  she  said  inpuio  English, 
her  voice  betraying  at  once  the  oi)en  sei-rot  of  her 
Bex,  "but  I  hear  from  the  man  who  keejis  this 
place  you've, got  liis  only  two  pooms.  I'm  sorry 
to  itjterfere  with  you,  but  would  you  mind  occu- 
pying one  together,  just  this  evening,  to  let  me 
have  the  other?  It's  a  long  pull  at  this,  hour  of 
night  to  Taourirt,  the  next  station." 

She  spoke  as  calmly  and  familiarly  as  if  she 
were  in  an  English  hotel,  and  as  if  a  lady  got 
up  in  male  Arab  costume  were  everywhere  a 
common  object  of  the  country.  Mr.  Hayward 
glanced  at  her  and  smiled,  raising  his  hat  the 
while  with  his  usual  stately  courtesy.     "With 


KK8. 

she  didn't  want 

luH  ^iiurdiiin. 
iml,"  Ijo  cried. 
Liw.  And  ii  girl 
our  escort.     Ii'h 

like   that  by  ft 

yward  answered, 
an  wo.  I'll  dib- 
'm  glad  you  took 

stranger  strolled 
agiiin.  She  had 
masculine,  when 
the  great  crop  of 
uhout  it  in  the 
iiir  of  loose  grace 

I  in  pure  English, 
open  seiTot  of  her 
in  who  keel*  this 
ooms.  I'm  sorry 
d  you  mind  occu- 
»vening,  to  let  mo 
dl  at  this-  hour  of 
ion." 

imiliarly  as  if  she 
I  as  if  a  lady  got 
ire  everywhere  a 
T.  Mr.  Hayward 
lising  his  hat  the 
sourtesy.     "With 


UNPRR  8RALBD   ORDERS. 


47 


I'HSure,"  ho  said,  motioning  W  to  a  seat  on 
the  divran  by  the  door.  "If  there's  anything 
at  all  wo  can  do  for  you  we  shall  be  only  too 
liiippy.  You're  English,  of  course,  as  I  gather 
tiDUi  your  accent?" 

The  problematical  young  person  took  a  seat  on 
thi>  divan  in  the  shade  and  removed  her  fez  for 
cijolness,  displaying  as  she  did  so  all  the  vv«a'th 
of  chestnut  hair*  that  htul  before  been  but  vaguely 
siiHjxHJted  by  the  fringe  that  eswiped  from  it. 

'More  English  than  anything  else,  I  suppose," 
slie  said,  brightly,  leaning  back  as  she  spoke  and 
loosening  her  native  slippers;  "though  I  taveu't 
!i  drop  of  English  blood  in  my  body  if  it  comes 
ti>  that.  But  I'm  a  British  8i>bject,  any  way, 
and  my  native  tongue's  English.  I'm  a  little 
liit  of  everything,  I  believe — except  Turk,  thank 
Hoaven!  —  but  my  name's  mostly  Greek;  it's 
lone  ITraoopoli."  .'»r, 

"A  very  pretty  name,  too,"  Owen  put  in, 
lialf-abashed.  "My  friend's  is  Hayward,  and 
mine's  Owen  Cazalet." 

"Why,  then  you  must  be  Sacha's  brother," 
Miss  Dracopoli  cried,  enchanted.  "You  are? 
How  delightful !  Sacha  'and  I  used  to  go  to  the 
School  of  Art  together.  Yoti  never  hoard  hei 
speak  of  me,  did  you — lone  Dracopoli?" 

"No,  never,"  Owen  answered.  "But  she 
knows  so  many  girls  in  London,  of  course,"  he 
added,  apologetically.  "You  don't  mean  to  say 
you're  traveling  alone  in  Monxjco  like  this? 
You've  come  all  the  way  from  Tangier  with 
nobody  but  this  servant?" 


48 


UNDlilt  8KALKI)  UKUiCRM. 


"Not  from  Tiln^fior,"  Mins  Iotk"'  unMWcred,  on 
joyiiiK  ills  Htnazt  iiioiit  iiuiiuMimil.v,  "imtcli  t'lii-lhtr 
than  thiit.  -Ml  thn  wiiy  from  Oraii,  ia  Freiidi 
Al^t'i'ia. — YoH,  I've  ri<l<U'n  hctohh  tho  inoiintaiiM 
on  lay  owu  hin-d  luirst',  just  with  Ali  to  Uihi 
oiiro  of  nu).  Tho  Fioncli  iH)(;j»h)  at  ( )raa  talked 
a  pack  of  noiiHcnso  ul)out  itH  beiuii^  iiaposHihlu  fir 
nnyb.idy  togot  alouf^  l)eyoad  the  frontier  witlioiit 
un  twf'ort.  *\'ory  widl,  then,'  Hyid  1  to  tho  .so/t.v- 
jVi'/rr  or  Honiob  uly — a  fat,  Hiniling  old  goidlo- 
niiiii  with  a  rod  ribbon  in  his  buttonholu  and  a 
IM>rfo(;t  goniuB  fur  MhriigKi'iK  I'i^  BhouldorB  ami 
saying  'MuIh,  non,  niadenioisoUo ;  iniposHible.' 
— 'I  never  oaro  to  attempt  anything  myHelf  un- 
less it's  impiifiHiblo.  What's  possible's  easy. 
What's  imposdblo's  amnsing. '  He  shruggeil 
his  shoulders  again,  and  si'^d:  'Another  of  thew 
mad  English.  Tiumk  V  in,  if  she's  killed, 
it'll  b()  beyond  tho  f  r  ;nti  But  he  let  me  go, 

all  tho  same."     And  lone  smiled  triumph  at  tho 
memory  of  tiie  encounter. 

"And  you've  had  no  diffioultiea  by  the  way?" 
Mr.  Hay  ward  asked,  astonished. 

lone  throw  her  head  back,  and  sliowed  a  very 
pretty  neck.  Her  face  wivs  daintily  rounded, 
and  her  tooth,  when  she  smiled,  vvoro  two  rowa 
of  pure  ivory. 

"Difficultiob:  "  she  echoed.  "DifficuUien! 
Dear  mo,  yes;  thank  goidnoss  I've  had  noth- 
ing but  cUflii'ulties.  Why,  what  else  do  yoi 
expeol?  Whero'd  be  the  fun  of  coming  so  fur 
and  facing  so  much  discomfort,  I  should  like  to 
know,  if  it  were  nil  plain  sailing,  like  a  canttr 


^  t 


{DKKS. 

!()n("«  iiMHWcrod,  tm 
)ly,  "luucli  luflluT 
I  Uruii,  iu  Frencli 
•OHM  tlu)  iiioiintiuiM 
with  All  ti)  taki! 
[)l()  at  Oriin  tiilkfil 
)iug  impoHHible  f  ir 
u'  tronlu^r  witlioiit 
Hyid  1  to  tho  nous- 
iniling  old  goiitlo- 
I  buttonhole  and  a 

hiti  Hhouldora  and 
aullo;  imposwible.' 
lything  myself  uri- 
a  poHsible'B  eaHy. 
g.'  Ho  Bhruggt'il 
:  'Another  of  thexo 
Ml,  if  Bhe'w  killotl, 

But  ho  le*  me  go, 
iled  triumph  at  tho 

iltiea  by  the  way?" 
led, 

and  showed  a  very 

drtiiltily  rounded, 

led,  were  two  rowH 

led.  "Difficulties! 
ess  I've  had  notli- 
what  else  do  yon 
in  of  coining  so  far 
)rt,  I  should  like  to 
iiling,  like  a  canter 


UNDEIt  SRAI.RD  ORDERS. 


4» 


across  the  Hrigliton  downs?  It  was  the  diflS. 
( idtioB  that  drew  me,  and  I've  not  boon  disap- 
pointpd."  ~ 

Owen  starwl  hard  at  her  and  listened  with  i)ro- 
found  int«M-oHfc  and  admiration.  Mr.  Haywurd, 
Killing  alairntnl,  noted  tho  sparklo  in  his  eyo. 
This  was  indeed  a  girl  after  Owen's  own  heart, 
ho  f(»lt  suro.  So  ho  rogi8tero<l  a  solenm  resolu- 
tion in  his  own  mind  to  Hnd  out  that  night  which 
way  Miss  Dracopali  was  going  on  tho  morrow 
—and  to  start  himself  on  the  opposite  one.  Pi  r 
thoro's  nothing  more  likely  to  turn  a  man  from 
any  fixed  resolve  in  life  than  that  first  stumbling- 
block  of  our  race,  from  Adam  downward— a  wi  - 
man.  And  Mr.  Hayward  had  fur  other  designs 
in  his  head  for  Owen  Cazalet  than  to  hit  him  fall 
a  victim  betimes  to  any  lone  Dracoj  4i. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

A  OBITIOAL   EYBNINO. 

They  sat  there  some  time  and  talked,  the 
pretty  stranger  in  the  Moorish  costume  detailing 
to  thom  meanwhile  in  further  outline  her  chief 
adventures  by  the  way.  How  she'd  been  re- 
fused at  every  native  hut  in  the  village  here, 
and  made  to  sleep  in  the  open  air,  under  the  fig- 
trees,  there;  and  turned  away  altogether  from 
the  whole  tribal  lands  elsewhere.     It  was  a  curi- 


1  i 


>  tti;;; 


:vi«iisj8^iS^i^ia;jiai^^i^v 


4U- 


60 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


I  r 


'*'t 


OU8  eventful  tale,  and  once  or  twice  it  grew  ex- 
citing; but  Miss  lone  herself,  overflowing  with 
yoiithful  spirits,  told  it  all,  from  the  humorous 
side  as  a  capital  joke,  and  now  and  again  made 
them  laugh  hoai-tily  by  the  quaint  drollness  of 
her  comments.  At  the  end  of  it  all  she  rose, 
quite  unabashed  and  untroubled  by  her  wid<; 
Turkish  trousers,  and  with  an  airy  wave  of  the 
hand  observed,  "I  must  go  inside  now,  and  see 
what  our  landlord  can  do  for  me  in  the  way  of 
supper.  I'm  hot  and  dusty  with  my  ride.  I 
must  have  a  good  wash.  There's  nothing  on 
earth  so  delicious,  after  all — when  you've  got 
beyond  the  southern  limit  of  tubs — as  a  big  bowl 
of  cold  water  at  the  end  of  a  long  day's  journey." 

As  soon  as  she  was  gone,  Mr.  Hay  ward  looked 
at  Owen.     "Well,"  he  said  slowly. 

"Well,"  Owen  answered,  perusing  his  boots. 

"What  do  you  think  of  her?"  Mr.  Hay  ward 
asked,  trembling.  '  »"- 

"She's  certainly  pretty,"  Owen  admitted,  hot 
and  red. 

And  neither  said  a  word  more.  But  Mr,  Hay- 
ward  felt  an  unwonted  thrill  of  j)remonitory 
discomfiture. 

Half  an  hour  later,  lone  emerged  again.  She 
had  taken  off  her  embroidered  jacket  meanwhile, 
and  now  displayed  underneath  it  a  sort  of  loose 
white  shirt,  of  some  soft  silky  material,  which 
gave  her  a  more  feminine  air,  and  showed  off  to 
gretiter  advantage  that  full  smooth  snowy  neck  of 
hers.  Her  short  but  flowing  hair  rippled  grace- 
fully round  her  temples.     She  came  out  to  them, 


I 


DBRS. 

twice  it  grew  ex- 
overflowing  with 
3m  the  liumorous 
V  and  again  made 
mint  droll ness  of 
f  it  all  she  rose, 
)led  by  her  wid(! 
airy  wave  of  the 
iside  now,  and  see 
me  in  the  way  of 
with  my  ride.  I 
here's  nothing  on 
-when  you've  got 
lbs — as  a  big  bowl 
ig  day's  journey." 
•.  Hayward  looked 
3wly. 

lerusing  his  boots, 
ir?"  Mr.  Hayward 

wen  admitted,  hot 

»re.    But  Mr,  Hay- 
11   of  jjremonitorj^ 

lerged  again.  She 
jacket  meanwhile, 
li  it  a  sort  of  loose 
fey  material,  which 
and  showed  off  to 
ooth  snowy  neck  of 
hair  rippled  grace- 
I  came  out  to  them, 


-IS?;'^ 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


trntuMtm/tumm 


61 


trilling  to  herself  a  few  bars  of  a  joyous  French 
song:  c^est  <;a-tarra-larra. 

"Well,  this  is  better,"  she  cried,  looking 
around  at  the  pink  glow  of  the  southern  sunset 
on  the  bare  whitewashed  walls,  and  shakiog  her 
locks  free  from  her  foreh*  A  on  the  faint  moun- 
tain breeze.  "I'm  cool  again  now.  They'll 
give  us  something  to  eat  out  here  before  long,  I 
suppose.  Better  here  tlian  in  that  stuffy  little 
living-room  inside.  I'm  not  particular  as  to 
furniture,  or  food  either,  thank  goodness;  but  '*'■ 
seems  to  come  rather  expensive  in  Morocco." 

She  was  like  fresh  air  herself,  Owen  felt  in- 
stinctively. ^.>mething  so  open  and  breezy 
about  her  face,  her  voice,  her  walk,  her  manner. 
The  ideal  of  young  Hellas  come  to  life  again  by 
a  miracle  in  our  working-day,  modern,  indus- 
trial world.  She  looked  as  if  no  taint  of  this 
sordid  civilization  of  ours  had  ever  stained  or 
sullied  her  Greek  Naiad  nature, 

"I've  asked  them  to  serve  us  what  they  cai,  a 
the  open  court,"  Mr.  Hayward  said,  dubiously. 
"You're  used  to  their  fare  by  this  time,  no 
doubt,  so  I  won't  apologize  for  it." 

"I  should  think  so,"  the  girl  answered,  pull- 
ing her  shirt  loose  as  she  spoke,  with  another 
sunny  smile.  "Very  good  fare,  too,  in  its  way, 
"though  not  luxurious;  dried  figs,  and  milk,  and 
olive  oil,  and  cous-cous.  It's  such  e.  comfort  to 
feel  one's  left  fish-knives  and  doilieei  altogether 
behind  one,  and  that  there  isu'i  a  pair  of  aspara- 
gus-tonga anywhere  nearer  than  Oran." 

"Perhaps,"  Owen  began,  rising  from  his  seat, 


r>t 


4-^^^ 


F^ 


m^ 


'»^msmm 


}■ 


!''■;• 


mmm 


62 


UNDER  SEALBt)  ORDERS. 


and  looking  timidly  toward  Mr.  Hay  ward,  "Miss 
Dracopoli  would  prefer—" 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  their  new  acquaintance 
put  in  quickly,  interrupting  him,  "I'm  not  Miss 
Dracopoli.  I  object  to  these  meaningless  pure 
courtesy  titles.     My  name's  lone." 

"But  I  can't  say  lone  to  a  lady  I  never  met  in 
my  life,  l)efore  to-night,"  Owen  responded,  al- 
most blushing. 

"Why  not?"  the  pretty  stranger  answeretl, 
with  most  engaging  frankness,  "especially  as 
you'll  most  likely  never  see  me  again  in  your 
life,  after  to-morrow." 

Mr.  Hay  ward  looked  up  sharply.  He  was 
glad  to  hear  that  welcome  suggestion.  But 
Owen  only  bowed,  and  received  the  hint  in  re- 
gretful silence. 

"Well,  if  I  were  a  man,  you  see,"  lone  went 
on,  composing  herself  on  the  divan  in  Owen'p 
place,  with  her  feet  under  her.  Oriental  fashion, 
"I'd  get  other  men,  of  course,  to  call  me  Draco- 
poli. But  a  girl  can't  quite  do  that— its  unfem- 
inine,  and  women,  I  think,  should  always  bo 
womanly. — so  the  only  way  out  of  it  -  is  to  say 
frankly,  lone." 

"So  universal  a  privilege  is  the  It  is  likely  to 
be  highly  prized,"  Mr.  Hay  ward  sa  d  senten- 
tiously. 

"Exactly,"  lone  answered,  leaning  forward, 
all  alert,  and  opening  her  palms  before  her,  de- 
monstratively. "That's  just  the  point  of  it, 
don't  you  see?  It  prevents  stupid  nonsense. 
I'm  all  for  social  freedom,  myself;  and  social 


BBS. 


"*TS(^^^^^^)I  -•. 


F,-w>narpF"'  ly.  nwmi  ^*'Kmyiamm^tf%ffyt!^wtiifmmmm/i^^ 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


68 


■'  i  -f 


Hay  ward,  "Miss 

3W  acquaintance 

I,  "I'm  not  Miss 

tieaningless  pure 

e." 

y  I  never  met  in 

n  responded,  al- 

inger  answeretl, 
i,  "especially  as 
le  again  in  your 

arply.  He  was 
uggestion.  But 
d  the  hint  in  re- 
see,"  lone  went 
iivan  in  Owen'p 
Oriental  fashion, 
to  call  me  Draco- 
that — its  unfem- 
bould  always  be 
t  of  it  is  to  say 

the  Itis  likely  to 
ard  sad  senten- 

leaning  forward, 
us  before  her,  de- 
the  point  of  it, 
stupid  nonsense, 
lyself;  and  social 


freedom  we  girls  can  only  get  when  women  in- 
sist in  general  society  upon  being  accepted  as 
citizens,  not  as  merely  women.  What  I've 
always  held  about  our  future — " 

But  before  she  could  get  any  further  in  her 
voluble  harangue,  the  landlord  of  the  little  inn, 
if  one  may  venture  to  give  the  village  guest- 
house such  a  dignified  name,  appeared  in  the 
court  with  the  single  tray  which  contained  their 
dinner.  He  was  the  amine  or  breadmau  of  the 
little  mountain  community;  and  after  serving 
the  meal,  he  and  his  friends  stood  by,  as  native  • 
politeness  demands,  not  to  partake  of  the  for^, 
but  to  do  honor  to  their  guests  and  to  enliven 
them  with  conversation.  From  the  talk  that 
ensued,  Owen,  who,  of  course,  spoke  no  Arabic, 
was  wholly  cut  off;  but  Mr.  Hay  ward  and  lone 
chatted  away  complacently.  Every  now  and 
again,  too,  the.  amine  would  take  up  some  cous- 
cous or  a  morsel  of  roast  kid  in  his  dnsky  fingers, 
and,  as  a  special  mark  of  distinguished  con- 
sideration, thrust  it  bodily  into  their  mouths — 
the  Oriental  equivalent  for  "Do  let  me  tempt  you 
with  another  slice  of  turkey."  Owen  felt  it  a  \ 
hard  trial  of  his  courtesy  to  gulp  down  these 
greasy  morsels  from  those  doubtfuUy-washen 
hands;  but  he  noticed  with  admiration  that 
lone  Dracopoli  received  them  all  with  every 
outward  expitission  of  appreciation  and  delight, 
and  he  marveled  much  within  himself  at  the 
young  lady's  adaptiveness. 

"What  a  power  of   accommodating  yourself 
to  circumstanoes  you  must  have,"  he  cried  at 


i^ 


.J- 

■1 

^    \ 

( 

■'} 

V 


4  ■ 


^  1 


1   ' 


54 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


last  to  her,  in  an  unobtrusive  aside.  "7  can't 
put  on  a  smiling  face  at  those  great  greasy  boluses 
of  his.     How  on  earth  do  you  manage  itf " 

lone  laughed  lightly.  "Habit,  J.  suppose," 
she  answered  with  a  sunny  glance  at  the  amine. 
"Thaf's  how  I  rab  along  so  well  with  these  half 
barbarous  people.  I'm  accustomed  to  giving 
way  to  their  crude  native  ideas,  and  so  I  sel- 
dom get  into  any  serious  bothers  with  them ;  and 
though  I  travel  alone,  they  never  dream  of  in- 
sulting me,  even  if  they're  a  bit  churlish  or  sus- 
picious S3metimes.  And  then,  besides,  I  dare 
say,  my  Greek  ancestry  counts  for  a  great  deal. 
I'm  not  so  particular  about  my  food,  you  see, 
as  most  regular  English  people.  Even  at  my 
father's  table  in  London  we  always  had  black 
olives,  and  caviare,  and  all  sorts  of  queer  Greek 
dishes — nasty  aloppy  messep,  our  visitors  called 
them,  much  like  this  pillau;  but  I  was  brought 
up  on  them,  and  I  liked  them." 

"And  then  you  speak  Arabic  so  well,"  Owen 
went  on,  enthusiastically.  "That's  the  Greek 
in  you  again,  I  suppose.  Can  you  speak  many 
lang^uagesP  Most  eastern  Europeans  have  such 
a  natural  taste  for  them." 

"Oh,  yes,  pretty  well,"  lone  replied,  with  the 
careless  air  of  a  person  who  describes  sotne 
unimportant  accomplishment,  "English,  a»nl 
French,  and  German,  of  course,  those  come  by 
nature— one  hears  everybody  speaking  them; 
and  then  modern  Greek — papa's  business  friends 
always  spoke  that  in  the  house,  and  we  picked 
it  up  unconsciously ;  and   ancient  Greek — papa 


''"'^.^^ 


HJ|l,',ll  .1  l».i|,>.»i 


BR8. 

aide.     "I  can't 
it  greasy  boluses 
inage  it?" 
it,   J.  suppose," 
!e  at  the  amine. 
with  these  half 
med    to   giving 
9,  aad  80  I  sel- 
with  them ;  and 
rer  dream  of  in- 
churlish  or  8UB- 
besides,  I  dare 
for  a  great  deal. 
Y  food,  you  see, 
).     Even  at  my 
ways  had  black 
3  of  queer  Greek 
r  visitors  called 
lit  I  was  brought 

so  well,"  Owen 
'hat's  the  Greek 
you  speak  many 
peans  have  such 

replied,  with  the 
I  describes  some 
"English,  a'Hl 
e,  those  come  by 
speaking  them; 
i  business  friends 
e,  and  we  picked 
ent  Greek — papa 


UNDfiiB  SBALBO  OBDBRS. 


iii^Hj     inrgini^jitn^-iiniinyijr  >i^ii  ^iira^' 


65 


liked  us  to  know  enough,  you  see,  to  read  the 
New  Testament  and  follow  the  service  at 
Church;  papa  was  orthodox,  of  course,  and  we 
went  to  Petersburg  Place;  and  it  was  such  fun 
t)  spell  out  Herodotus  and  Aristophanes  and 
^schylus.  Men  think  you're  clever.  Though, 
when  you  speak  modern  Greek  fluently,  you 
know,  it  isn't  the  least  bit  hard  to  pick  out  the 
sense  of  Thucydides  and  Plato.  But  I'm  not 
learned,  you  must  understand ;  I've  only  skimmed 
them  through,  just  as  I'd  skim  Shakespeare  or 
a  French  novel  or  Dante's  'Inferno.'  "  And  she 
helped  herself  .to  some  curds  with  her  fingers, 
daintily. 

"Then  you  know  Italian,  too,"  Owen  inter- 
posed, still  more  open-mouthed, 

"To  read,  not  to  talk—that  is  to  say,  not  well. 
But  I'd  soon  pick  it  up  if  I  was  a  week  in  the 
country.  That's  how  I  speak'  Arabic— *  as  she 
is  spoke,'  you  know — no  better.  I  took  lessons 
for  a  fortnight  at  Oran  before  I  started,  from 
such  a  funny  old  Moor,  with  a  French  wife  and 
three  native  ones;  they  boarded  me  in  the 
harem,  and  we  jibjabbered  together  from  m  m- 
ing  to  night,  and  I  get  along  splendidly  now. 
So  tvould  you,  if  you  took  the  trouble — and  if 
you've  a  turn  for  languages." 

"I  have,"  Owen  answered  modestly.  "I 
suppose  that  runs  always  with  east-European 
blood."  He  paused  and  faltered,  for  in  the 
midst  of  the  airline's  conversation,  Mr.  Hay- 
ward's  keen  eyes  had  darted  a  warning  glanc 
at  him.     Then  he  went  on  more  qujlckly,  as  if  to 


\ 


>r. 


1    i 
1    1 

!     i 


A*. 


-^  :tifc:esy 


'S^^^^Himb^^  i 


^.  I 


cover  the  slip, 
from  what  you 
living?" 

'Ob,  dear,  yes,"  lone  replied  frankly,  with- 
out a  shade  of  false  reserve.  "A  dear  old  duck 
of  a  mother.  She's  Norse,  my  mother  is,  but 
Orthodox — Greek  Church,  I  mean,  you  know. 
l*apa  married  her  '  Bergen,  when  he  was  thero 
in  basiness.  and  she  was  received  into  the  Church 
in  London,  after  he  was  made  a  partner.  That's 
why,  though  I  am  practically  English,  I  haven't 
a  drop  of  English  blood  in  my  veins;  thank 
Ifeaven,  for  I  prefer  to  be  original.  I'm  a  cyyaa 
l)etwr«n  Nora  Helmer  and  the  Athenian  of  the 
Hge  of  Pericles,  Sach'a  always  tells  me;  and 
I'm  proud  of  the  mixture.  Pucker  English  peo- 
l)le  are  so  conventional ;  too  Philistine,  too  afraid 
to  trust  their  own  wings.  I'm  not  like  that. 
I'm  wild  on  freedom."  And  she  shook  her 
Htraggling  locks  again,  standing  out  wavily  on 
all  sides,  and  let  her  full  white  shirt  purse  itself 
out  as  it  would  over  her  uncorseted  bosom. 

"So  I  should  think,"  Owen  answered  with  a 
slight  twinkle  in  his  eye,  though  he  admired  her 
boldness  immensely.  "But  does  your  mother — " 
know 'you're  out,  he  was  half  tempted  to  add. 
though  he  restrained  himself  with  an  effort,  ami 
finished  the  sentence,  "approve  >of  your  coming 
away  all  alone  by  yourself  like  this  to  Mo- 
rocco?" 

lone  drew  in  her  rich  red  lips  with  expression, 
and  wiped  them  internally  —  since  the  feast 
knew. no  napkins.     "Pm  an  individualist,"  she 


ERS. 


- ■  ■--■^ — — -:-: — ">  m'<>»vf-mtff>iv  I  <\»iiiif»mii»ifm/)wnv<><>09nm'"'''^i^'''''-'''''''»*»'*^^0i Illicit  »i'*'>'|[['yf . 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


07 


dead,  I  gather, 
»  you  a  mother 

[  frankly,  witli- 
A  dear  old  duck 
•  mother  is,  but 
Ban,  you  know, 
len  he  was  there 
I  into  the  Church 
partner.    That's 
iglish,  I  haven't 
ay  veins;  thank 
ml.     I'm  a  cx)fi8 
Athenian  of  the 
(  tells  me;   and 
ker  English  peo- 
istine,  too  afraid 
n  not  like  that. 
I   she  shook  her 
g  out  wavily  on 
shirt  purse  itself 
ited  bosom, 
answered  with  a 
li  he  admired  her 
I  your  mother — " 
tempted  to  add, 
ith  an  effort,  and 
<«f  your  coming 
ike  this  to   Mo- 

with  expression, 
-since  the  feast 
dividualist,"  she 


aaid  briskly;  "above  everything  an  individu- 
alist. I  believe— it's  a  simple  creed — in  per- 
.sjnal  freedom.  And  I'm  lucky  in  having  a 
mother  who's  an  individualist,  too,  and  who 
shares  my  confession  of  faith.  When  I  was 
coming  here,  I  said  to  her,  'Well,  I'm  going  to 
.Morocco.'  'All  right,  dear,'  she  said;  'alone?' 
And  I  said,  'Yes,  alone,  mother.'  'How'U  you 
travel?  on  foot?'  'No,  if  possible,  on  horse- 
l)ack.'  'When  do  you  start?'  'To-rnorrow.' 
'Very  well,  dear;  take  care  of  yourself.'  There's 
a  mother  for  you,  if  you  like.  I  think  I've  rea- 
Hon  to  be  proud  of  her.  I'm  not  conceited,  I 
hope,  but  I  flatter  myself  I've  brought  up  my 
mother  splendidly." 

Mr.  Hayward,  glancing  sidewise,  would  have 
^iven  anything  that  moment  to  get  rid  of  the 
amine.  This  conversation  was  terrible.  It 
threatened  instant  ruin  to  all  his  best-laid  plans. 
Was  ever  Owen  confronted  witu  such  a  danger- 
ous pitfall?  And  he  could  do  nothing,  nothing, 
to  stop  the  full  flow  of  this  strange  yoiug  wo- 
man's too  attractive  confidences. 

He  tried  to  draw  her  into  the  cor. -ersation 
with  the  amine,  but  all  to  no  pu'-pose.  lone  was 
much  more  interestingly  engagea  elaewaere.  She 
liked  this  young  athlete  with  the  great  English 
limbs,  who  told  her  so  modestly  of  his  climbs 
.unong  the  mountains — a  ma,n  after  her  own 
iieart,  and  so  handsome  too,  and  so  appreciative. 
She  rattled  on  with  him  by  the  hour,  now  nar- 
rating her  own  adventures,  now  drawing  out  his. 
Long  after   the    meal  was  removed,   and  the 


»,  i 


r 


n 

:  r 

11 


1 , 1 


:  4 


68 


UNDKi'  BEAlffD  ORDERS. 


i: -. 


amine  hm\  withdrawn  gracefully  to  hft  evening 
devotions  (with  a  curso  for  the  infidels),  she  kept 
thoHe  two  there  up  talking  continuously  with  her. 
Mr.  Hayward  himself,  that  heart  of  adamant, 
was  hardly  proof  against  her  se<luctive  charm. 
She  was  so  frank,  so  adventurous,  so  bold,  yet  so 
innocent.  "You  mustn't  think  ill  of  me,"  she  ' 
said  at  last,  "if  I've  talked  like  a  woman  all 
evening — and  all  about  myself.  I've  a  right  to 
be  garrulous.  I've  such  arrears  to  make  up — 
such  arr^rtrs:  oh,  dreadful!  Just  consider;  it's 
five  weeks  to-day  since  I've  met  a  Christian  soul 
to  talk  to!" 

Mr.  Hayward  stroked  his  chin  and  roped  his 
big  black  mu8ta<;he.  The  word  Christian  at- 
tracted him.  "And  are  you  orthodox  then  your- 
self," he  tisked,  "like  your  father  and  mother?" 

lone  laughed  at  the  question.  "Orthodrx?" 
she  cried,  merrily,  with  a  girlish  toss  of  her  pret- 
ty head — it  was  a  true  Greek  head,  oval,  straight- 
nosed,  and  round-faced — "not  in  any  sense  of  the 
word.  I'm  a  Christian,  I  hope,  in  essentif.ls,  if 
that's  what  you  want  to  ask;  but  orthodox,'  no, 
no.  Not  at  all  my  line,  that.  I'm  just  a  con- 
centrated bundle  of  all  the  heterodoxies!''  And 
with  that  final  Parthian  shot,  she  nodded  good- 
■  night  to  them  both,  and  tripped  gracefully  away 
into  the  narrow  doorway  of  the  sleeping-room. 

Before  they  retired  for  the  night,  to  roll  them- 
selves up  in  their  own  rugs  on  the  smooth  mud- 
paved  floor,  Mr.  Hayward  whispennl  for  a  mo- 
ment in  a  low  voic<'  to  Owen.  "My  boy,"  he 
said,  not  angrily,  but  like  one  grieved  and  sur- 


lti*x. 


to  hft  evening 

dels),  she  kept 

msly  with  her. 

;  of  adamant, 

uctive  charm. 

so  bold,  yet  so 

11  of  me,"  flho  ' 

a  woman  all 

I've  a  right  to 

to  make  up — 

consider;  it's 

Christian  soul 

and  roped  his 

Christian  al- 
dox  then  your- 
and  mother?" 

"Orthodrx?" 
088  of  her  pret- 
oval,  straight- 
ny  sense  of  the 
n  essentif.ls,  if 
orthodox?  no, 
'm  just  a  coD- 
loxies!''     And 

nodded  good- 
racefully  away 
sleeping-room. 
b,  to  roll  them- 
e  smooth  mud- 
snul  for  a  mo- 
"My  boy,"  he 
ievod  and  sur- 


UNDBR  SBALKD  ORDERS. 

prised,  laying  his  hand  on  the  young  man's  shoul- 
der with  that  kindly  paternal  air  of  his,  "what 
a  terrible  slip  about  your  east-European  blood ! 
It  took  my  breath  away  to  hear  you.  How  ou 
earth  did  you  ever  come  to  do  it?" 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  know,"  Owen  answered, 
abashed  and  penitent.  "It  slipped  from  me  un- 
awares. I  suppose  I  was  oflf  my  guard,  being  so 
far  from  England.  Mr.  Hayward,  you're  too 
good.  Don't  look  at  me  like  that,  but  do  scold 
me,  do  scold  me  for  it.  I'd  give  worlds  if' you'd 
scold  me  sometimes  instead  of  taking  things  to 
heart  so.  Oh,  how  wrong  of  me,  how  silly! 
What  can  I  do  to  show  you  how  grieved  and 
ashamed  I  am?  Dear  friend,  dear  guardian, 
don't  look  At  me  like  that.  This  time  will  be  a 
warning  to  me.  As  long  as  I  live,  I  promise 
you  faithfully,  I'll  never  do  so  again — never, 
never,  never." 

And  to  do  him  justice,  he  kept  his  word  faith- 
fully. 


v»ta 


Vf-^a 


CHAPTER  VII. 

A    PHOTOGRAPHIC    STUDY. 

Owen  slept  that  evening  much  worse  than 
'usual .  Not  that  the  externals  of  his  resting-place 
at  Ain-Essa  differed  in  any  e.  ential  particular 
from  those  of  the  other  squalid  native  huts  where 
he'd  spent  every  previous  nigh'*;  since  leaving 
Tangier.     The  dogs  didn't  bark  lour'  r,  the  jack- 


,;^| 


\ 


■.'^'''.^i''  "■** ' 


f 


60 


UNDRK   HBALEn  ORDKR8. 


als  didn't  wbine  in  a  more  melancholy  nionotone, 
the  HoHH  didn't  bito  with  any  liv<'lier  jiersiHtenoe 
than  iu  all  the  other  Hparse  Borl)or  villHgos  on 
tho  8lo))e8  of  AtliiH.  But()w«n  slept  a  grwit  deal 
leHrt  than  liiw  wonl,  for  all  that:  and  tho  reaB'.m 
was— he  wuh  thinking  of  lone. 

She  was  Heparatod  from  him  only  by  a  thin 
wo(Mlen  partition:  for  these  native  North  African 
gneHt-houHes  uro  far  from  luxuriouH.  indeed,  it  is 
tho  fashion  to  make  a  single  building  serve  tho 
double  purpoBo  of  an  inn  and  of  the  villagi'  cow- 
house. At  one  end  of  the  guest-chamhcr  risf-s  a 
broad  wooden  platform,  under  which  the  mulas 
and  cattle  are  stabled,  their  heads  projectinj^ 
through  an  opening  into  the  room  one  sleeps  in. 
Hut  to  this  arrangement,  which  carried  his  mind 
away  at  first  to  the  inn  at  Bethlehem,  Owen  had 
by  this  time  grown  perfectly  accustomed;  what 
he  hadn't  grown  accustomed  to  was  lotie's  clo8.3 
proximity.  For  the  room  was  divided  trauK- 
versely  by  a  thin  layer  of  pine  planks;  and 
through  the  chinks  of  the  boards,  as  well  as 
through  the  open  space  at  the  far  end  whore  Ihe 
cattle  were  tethered,  he  could  hear  Tone's  deep 
breath,  long  and  regular  like  u  child'*,  rise  and 
fall  with  each  movement  of  that  invisible  bosom. 

He  thought  much  of  lone,  therefore,  and  of 
the  chance  that  had  thrown  them  thus  strangely 
together. 

She'd  come  there  for  amusement,  she  said ;  for 
amusement  alone;  and,  perhaps,  when  she  got 
back,  to  \vTite  a  book  about  it.  If  he'd  read  that 
book  in  London,  it  would  have  been  nothing, 


loly  nionotone, 
lier  iiersiHtence 
K»r  villagos  on 
pt  »i  grwit  deal 
and  tho  reauon 

inly  by  a  thin 
North  African 
■t.  Indeod,  itia 
[ding  servo  tho 
le  villiigi"  cow- 
'hamhi'V  riH*'s  a 
jich  tho  males 
adH  project  in<^ 
1  one  wleeps  in. 
irried  Ids  mind 
em,  Owen  iuul 
istomed;  whiit 
•fts  lono's  clos.j 
divided  tranw- 
3  planks ;  and 
ds,   a8  well   as 

end  whore  Ihe 
ar  Tone's  deep 
hildV,  rino  and 
iivisiblo  bosom, 
arefore,  and  of 

thus  strangely 

t,  she  said ;  for 

when  she  got 

'he'd  read  that 

been  nothing, 


UNDRR  HRALRD  ORDERS. 


61 


nothing.  Hut  meeting  lone  out  there,  in  the 
floHh,  among  the  wild  lulls  of  Morocco,  in  her 
iiiasctuline  attire  and  with  her  free  English  spirit 

for  after  all,  it  »/"a.s  Knglish — she  seemed  to 
hitn  more  like  some  i-reature  from  the  realms  of 
fairj'land  -  some  Hidlenic  nymph,()reador  Dryad 
revived,  in  tiiis  alien  world  of  woman-ensla'-ing 
Islam. 

Not  that  lone  seemed  to  think  much  of  her  own 
exploit  herself.  It  whs  that  that  put  the  finish' 
ing  touch  to  her  singuhir  character.  She  talked 
as  though  it  wore  quite  a  matter  of  course  for  a 
girl  of  nineteen  to  be  traveling  alone  in  man's 
clothes  through  the  mountains  of  North  Africa. 
A  mere  detail  of  convenience  on  an  out-of-the- 
way  route.  An  accident  of  caprice.  Owen  ad- 
mired her  all  tho  more  for  it. 

But  she  must  have  money,  t<x).  That  was  bad. 
<  )r  else  how  could  she  come  such  trii)^  as  this  by 
h'-rgelf  ?  Owen  didn't  dream  of  marriage  yet— 
ho  was  only  just  turned  twenty — but  he  had  a 
prejudice  against  money,  especially  in  a  woman, 
^lost  wholesome- minded  men  would  prefer  to 
work  for  the  girl  of  their  choice  themselves,  and 
let  her  owe  everything  to  them,  rather  than  put 
up  with  a  wife  who  conld  keep  them  or  help 
them,  and  make  them  lose  their  sense  of  perfect 
i  ndependinice. 

At  last  he  dozed  off.  Even  so,  he  slept  but 
lightly.  He  was  aware  of  tho  bites  of  each  in- 
dividual flea  in  all  that  populous  ro.Hn,  and  heard 
in  his  dreams  the  vari  ub  droning  notes  of  each 
responsive  jackal. 


Mi 


'■«! 


•I  UNbKH  HBALUD   ORDERS. 

Earlioptlmn  UMimluoxtmarniiiK,  Mr.  Hay  ward 
waked  liim  up  with  a  K*^iitl«  t.xich  ou  hiH  hIiouI- 
dor.  "Ij«<vo-toi,"  hu  Huid  in  Krcnch,  which  thtj' 
talk(Hl  tnj^dthor  ofteuor  th'in  ui)t  for  |»rut'ti<'t< 
wiko  on  thoHo  holiday  out iu^jrt— thorough  collo- 
quial Krttuch  in  no  UBeftil  for  youu({  tiioii  in  the 
dii>h>rnatii'  Horvico.  "Wo  iiiUHt  K"t  tuitlt>r  way 
protty  ourly  this  niorninij;,  or  wu  hIuiH  sleep  h  Id 
belle  ('loilc.  I'm  thinking  of  a  long  attigo. 
DroHB  tpiiuk,  and  como  out  to  me." 

Ho  didn't  say  why.  But  Owoii  fanciml  he 
know,  for  all  that.  Mr.  Jlaywanl  was  anxiouH 
to  gut  woU  Hturttnl  on  tho  road  U>foro  Ion«>  wuh 
ui>-^aml  tlio  up{x>dito  diroctiou  from  ibo  ono  sho 
moant  to  go  in. 

In  til  1*^  '  .)pe,  however,  tho  wise  guanlian  of 
youth  .  unex[Hjctedly  frubt rated,  Forscarcely 
had  tlioy  gono  out  into  tho  <•  'ol  court-yard,  from 
the  stufF^f  room  whore  they'll  pasHod  tho  ni^ht  in 
their  rugHfunid  llu-  hot  breath  of  tho  riittlc,  when 
a  lively  vuico  broke  in  up^n  thi-m,  "Guod-moru- 
ing,  friends ;  good-niuniiiig.  Ibii  't  it  juHt  ntiiling 
in  there?     I'm  out  half  an  hour  U^fore  you." 

It  was  lone,  Buro  enough,  \\\),  and  dn-ssed  l)e- 
times,  in  fez  and  white  shirt,  even  ]>.  <  ijicr  in  the 
fresh  morning  air  than  Inwt  nijrht  after  her  jour- 
ney. Did  she  alway«  rise  so  early,  Owen  won- 
dered to  himself;  or  h:id  she  got  up  on  purptso — 
he  hardly  dared  to  ank  it  of  his  own  soul,  for  he 
had  the  modt?8ty  of  a  man — well,  on  purpose  to 
say  go(xl-by  to  them? 

Lne,  however,  didn't  leave  them  long  in  doubt. 
"Ohj  Mr.  Hayward,"  she  said,  after  a  few  min- 


•r 


,  Mr.  Hayward 

I  oil  luH  hIioiiI- 
I'll,  wljicli  tiny 
t  for  pnu'ticc 
lionmgli  I'dllo- 
in^  iiuMi  in  tlu) 
^t't  iiniior  wiiy 
4lmli  Hleep  ii  Id 
H   long    utii(<o. 

•«Mi  fancind  he 
1  wiiH  aiixiuiiH 
Hiforo  loiu"'  wuH 
>n)  tbu  Olio  sho 

36  guardian  of 
.,  For  Hcarcf'ly 
Jiirt-yard,  from 
lod  th(>  ni|;:ljt  in 
lio  .  atllf,  wiien 
I,  "Good-morn- 
t  it  juHttttitling 
i^fore  you." 
tnd  drt'SHed  Ije- 
i  prtitiier  in  the 
.  Rfter  hor  jour- 
•ly,  ( )weri  won- 
ip  on  purpLBO — 
vvu  soul,  for  he 
,  on  purpose  to 

I  long  in  doubt, 
fter  a  few  min- 


UNDRK  HRAt.KD  OKDRRS. 


63 


utoH,  in  thnmoHt  natund  way  iK)«HihIo,  "I  wanted 
to  Hoe  you  iM'fore  I  went,  juHt  to  ask  you  a  favor. 
I  w.mdor,  now,  if  you'd  pliotograpli  mo.  You 
Hiiid  hiMt  ni^lil  you'd  a  I^^uh  and  ail  tliat  Hort  of 
tlnn((  hero  with  you:  and  I  thought,  if  you 
didn't  mind,  it'd  Ihj  ho  nice  to  ho  'took,'  jih  the 
sorvantH  nay,  in  all  my  clnff'on/t  likethiH — f^ot  up 
in  coHtumo  as  a  ro;<ular  Harliary  ttarhai-ian.  Of 
iiourso,  I  nnihl  have  it  done,  you  know,  juHt  nn 
wtdl  in  London :  only,  it  wouldn't  Iw  'just  \va 
well,'  but  (juite  difforont  nltof^otbcr.  If  I  wont 
for  it  to  Elliot  Ac  Fry'H,  or  t;>  Mortimer'n  in 
Mono  Street,  it'd  be  a  out-and-dried  London  cab- 
inet portrait  of  a  liwly  in  a  fancy  dress — nothing 
more  than  that  —  no  Burroundin^H,  no  reality. 
But  if  I  got  it  takon  horo,  with  the  real  livo  At- 
laH  in  the  diHtance  for  a  background,  and  tho 
village  and  the  Berlnjn*  for  acoessories  on  either 
Hido-— well,  Huppose  I  should  ever  hap[>en  to  make 
a  book  of  all  thin,  ju»t  think  what  a  lovely  idea 
for  a  f rontiHpicM^u. " 

Mr.  Hayward  laughed  and  humored  he'/.  No 
hann  in  humoring — just  for  onro — a  pretty  girl 
one'Il  most  likely  never  see  again  as  long  as  one 
lives.  "I  am  Mortimer's  in  Bond  Street,"  ho 
Haid  with  a  (juiet  smile.  "In  private  life,  I'm 
known  as  Lambert  Hayward;  but  in  businesH, 
I'm  Mortimer  &  Co.,  and  I  live  by  taking  pho- 
tographs. However,  if  you  like,  after  broak- 
fast,  we'll  try,  though  I  don't  know  whether 
these  Berbers  will  care  very  much  to  let  us  get 
u,  shot  at  their  village." 

"Oh,  leave  that  to  me,"  lone  said  contidontly. 


'y\ 


m 


i 


64 


UNDER  'jJSALifiD  ORDERS, 


"I'll  soon  make  it  all  right.  I'll  get  round  the 
amine.  He's  a  dear  old  gentleniKU,  I  can  see, 
and  he'll  do  anything  one  asks  him-  -if  only  one 
goes  the  right  way  to  work  about  it." 

And  as  she  said  it,  she  looked  so  bewitch  ingly 
arch  and  charming  that  Mr.  Hayward  in  his 
heprt  agreed  with  her  altogether.  Before  such 
guileless  art,  even  ripe  men,  he  felt  with  a  paug, 
are  but  as  clay  in  the  hands  of  the  potter. 

So  after  breakfudt,  he  got  out  his  camera, 
obedient  to  her  wish,  with  less  concealment  thau 
was  his  wont,  and  proceeded  to  make  prepara- 
tions tor  photographing  lone.  The  pretty  cosmo- 
politan herself,  meanwhile,  poured  out  voluble 
explanations  in  very  womanly  Arabic  to  the  vil- 
lage chief;  "at  each  sentence  of  which  the  old 
Moslem  stroked  bis  own  short  beard  caressingly, 
and  called  Allah  to  witness  in  strange  gutturals 
inat  he  meant  no  harm,  and  gazed  hard  at  the 
pleading  girl,  and  reflected  to  himself  with  a 
very  puzzled  head  that  the  ways  of  Allah  and 
these  infidels  are  truly  wonderful.  Strange  that 
such  fair  women  should  be  wasted  on  unbeliev- 
ers. But  at  the  end  of  it  all,  he  raised  his  head 
and  crossed  his  hands  on  his  breast.  "Allah  is 
great,"  he  murmured  piously,  "You  have  eyes 
like  the  gazelle.     Do  as  you  will,  oh  lady," 

""We'll  nave  it  here  then,  Mr.  Hayward,"  lone 
said,  motioning  him  over  toward  the  little  domed 
tomb  of  a  Mohammedan  saint,  surrounded  by 
prickly  pears  and  great  spike-leaved  aloes.  ' 'This 
makes  such  a  pretty  background.  It's  Afrioa 
all  over.     And  those  children  there  must  corns 


BBS. 

[  get  round  the 

TiKU,  I  can  seo, 

im-  -if  only  one 

:  it." 

so  bewitch  ingly 

[ayward  in  his 

r.     Before  such 

elt  with  a  paug, 

le  potter. 

ut   his   camera, 

)ncoalmeut  than 

make  prepaia- 
iio  pretty  cosnio- 
red  out  voluble 
rabic  to  the  vil- 

which  the  old 
ard  caressingly, 
orange  gutturals 
zed  hard  at  the 
himself  with  a 
s  of  Allah  and 
i.  Strange  that 
ed  on  unbeliev- 
raised  his  head 
jast.  "Allah  is 
•'You  have  eyes 
,  oh  lady." 
lay  ward, "  lone 
the  little  domed 

surrounded  by 
ed  aloes.  "This 
d.  It's  Afriy^A 
liere  must  corns 


UNDER  SEALED   ORDERS. 


across  and  he  examining  my  locket.  This  way, 
little  ones,"  in  Arabic.  "Now,  just  so,  then, 
Mr.  Hay  ward." 

The  operator  stoppad.  "I  hardly  know  if  it's 
(^uite  safe,"  he  said,  glancing  quickly  to  either 
Bide.  "This  tomb's  a  koribba,  you  see  —  the 
shrine  of  some  petty  saint,  aim  ist  as  holy  as  a 
mosque,  and  exceedingly  sacred.  The  people 
may  be  angry  with  us  if  I  try  to  make  a  picture 
of  it." 

lone  beamed  inquiry  with  those  bright  eyes 
at  the  amine.  The  amine,  overpowered,  nodded 
ungrudging  assent.  For  those  bright  eyes,  in- 
deed, what  live  man  would  not  forego  all  the 
houris  in  Paradise?  "Allah  is  great,"  he  mut- 
tered once  more,  "and  the  tomb'  is  a  holy  one. 
It  will  save  the  picture  from  sin.  The  bones  of 
the  blessed  Sidi  Ahmed  Ben  Moussa  within  it 
might  sanctify  anything, ' '  Which  is  one  way  of 
looking  at  it.  Desecration  and  wild  revenge  by 
sudden  murder  is  the  other  one. 

"Shall  I  stand  in  line,  too,  just  to  balance  the 
group?"  Owen  suggested,  half  trembling.  Mr. 
Hayward,  at  the  cHmera,  raised  one  warning 
hand  in  solemn  deprocation.  "No,  no,"  he  said 
quickly.  "That  would  never,  never  do.  Your 
European  get  up  would  V^reak  in  upon  the  unity 
of  the  scene,  Owen.  FatcAi  Miss  Dracopoli's 
Algerian — I  beg  your  pardofi;  lone's  1  mean 
His  dress  is  so  distinctive.  He'll  ^<e  much  more 
appropriate." 

"Won't  this  man  here  do  still  better?"  Owen 
asked,  raising  his  hand  to  point  »t  a  handnome 


..    M 


t"^ 


pr 


66 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


young  native  who  lounged  by  the  arched  door  of 
a  neighboring  hut,  in  the  picturesque  upland  garb 
of  the  country— one  long  cloak,  folded  toga-wise. 

But  lone  dashed  down  his  arm  almost  faster 
than  he  raised  it.  "Don't  do  that,"  she  cried 
half  alarmed.  "Haven't  you  loanied  that  yet? 
You've  no  idea  what  an  insult  it  is.  He  might 
rush  at  you  and  stab  you  for  it.  In  Morocco  you 
should  never  venture  to  point  at  anybody.  They 
think  it  brings  down  upon  thetn  the  evil  "ye. 
My  old  Moor  at  Oran  told  me  that,  and  lots  or 
other  good  tips  like  it.  They're  a  ticklish  peo- 
ple to  deal  with,  these  Berber.s,  and  you've  got 
to  humor  them.  Pointing's  almost  as  bad  as 
asking  the  father  of  a  household  after  his  wives 
and  family.  You  should  ignoro  his  womankind. 
They're  his  own  concern,  here,  you  see,  and  no- 
body else's.  What  a  country'  to  live  in.  It 
wouldn't  suit  me,  I'm  awfully  glad,  after  all, 
I  was  born  in  some  ways  an  Elnglish woman." 

The  pose  was  quickly  completed,  and  the  pict- 
ure taken.  As  soon  as  it  was  finished,  Mr.  Hay- 
ward  went  off  for  a  minute  to  pack  the  negative 
with  the  rest,  leaving  Owen  and  lone  alone  by 
the  dome-covered  tomb  for  a  short  breathing- 
space. 

Tho  moment  he  was  gone,  lone  gazed  at  the 
young  man,  and  murmured  in  a  ruminative  voice, 
"So  he's  Mortimer  &  Co.,  in  business?  How 
curious.     How  singular." 

"Yes,  Mortimer  &  Co.,  in  Bond  Street,"  Owen 
answered,  somewhat  alai'med  at  the  turn  her 
thoughts  were  taking. 


arched  door  of 
[ue  upland  garb 
Ided  toga- wise, 
n  almost  faster 
;hat,"  she  fried 
irued  that  yet? 
;  is.  He  might 
In  Morocco  you 
uybody.  They 
1  the  evil  "y^. 
hat,  and  lots  or 
a  ticklish  poo- 
and  you've  got 
nost  as  bad  as 
after  his  wives 
lis  womankind. 
3U  see,  and  no- 
te live  in.  It 
glad,  after  all, 
:lish  woman." 
d,  and  the  pict- 
shed,  Mr.  Hay- 
jk  the  negative 

lone  alone  by 
aort  breathing- 

e  gazed  at  the 
minative  voice, 
lusineas?     How 

[Street,"  Owen 
b  the  turn  her 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


67 


"And  out  of  it,  ho  calls  himself  Lambert  Hay- 
ward,  does  he?" 

"He  does.     Lambert  Hay  ward," 

"But  wb  it's  his  real  name?"  lone  burst  out> 
turniug  r.und  with  a  sudden  dart,  and  flashing 
tJie  <iuestiu  him  unexpectedly. 

( )wen  was  uite  taken  aback  at  her  lightning- 
like quickness.  "His  real  name,"  he  repeated, 
all  disconcerted.  "Why,  I  told  you.  Lambert 
Hay  ward." 

"Oh,  bosh,"  iv»oe  ansv-^ered  promptly,  with 
the  saucy  confidence  of  a  pretty  girl.  "You 
don't  really  expect  me  to  swallow  that,  now,  do 
you?" 

"Why  not?"  Owen  asked,  flushing  hot. 

"Why  not?"  lone  echoed,  brimming  over  with 
conscious  discovery.  "Well,  that's  really  too 
absurd  of  you.  Why  not  Lambert  Hay  ward? 
Simply  because  Lambert  Hayward's  a  pure  En- 
glish name,  and  your  friend's  no  more  English 
than  I  am ;  nor  half  as  much  either,  if  it  comes 
to  that.     Ho  wasn't  even  born  in  England." 

'You  thiuk  not?"  Owen  answered  uneasily, 
appallei^  at  the  girl's       ^"v  intuition. 

"Oh,  dear,  no,"  lonu  .ed  with  decision,  shak- 
ing: her  pretty  fluffy  hair.  "I  knew  that  at  a 
glance.  I  knew  it  by  his  r's,  and  his  o,  w's, 
and  his  .s.  fe's.  He's  uat  English  at  all,  I'm 
siu-e.     The  man's  a  Russian. " 

There  w«s  a  deep  long  pause.  Owen  could 
hear  his  own  heart  beat,  He  wouiin't  tell  a  lie, 
and  the  truth  would  undo  him.  He  let  his  eyes 
re^t  nervously  on  the  ground  some  seconds.     He 


68 


UNDER  BBALBD  ORDERS 


didn't  dare  to  raise  them,  lest  this  witch  should 
read  every  thought  in  his  ruling  brain.  "He 
calls  himself  an  Englishman,"  he  murmured  at 
last;  "and  says  he  was  born  in  England."  And, 
for  one  instant,  he  looked  at  her. 

Their  eyes  met  in  a  flash.  lone's  peered  deep 
into  his.  Owen  quailed  before  her  keen  scrutiny. 
Then  the  girl  added  calmly,  "Yes,  but  it  isn't 
true,  you  know.  And  you  yourself,  you  know  it 
isn't.  He's  as  Russian  as  he  can  be.  As  Rus- 
sian as  they  make  them.  His  native  tongue's 
Russki.  I've  half  a  mind  to  try  him  with  a  sen- 
tence or  two  in  good  Russ,  just  to  see  how  it  con- 
fuses him." 

Owen  stared  at  her  in  mute  agony.  Oh,  what 
on  earth  was  he  to  do?  He  clasped  his  hands 
and  grew  cold.  He  felt  like  a  criminal.  "For 
heaven's  sake  don't"  he  cried,  all  aghast.  "If 
you  do,  what  can  he  think  except  that  I've  be- 
trayed him?  and  I'd  sooner  die  than  that.  If 
you  speak  a  word  to  him  in  Russian,  I'll  Jump 
over  the  nearest  crag  and  kill  myself." 

He  spoke  with  awful  seriousness.  Ion§  took 
it  in  at  a  glance.  She  saw  how  alarmed  he  was, 
and  nodded  a  quiet  acquiescence. 

"Don't  be  afraid,"  she  said  shortly.  "I'm  as 
dark  as  night  and  as  close  as  the  grave.  I  won't 
whi8i>er  a  word  to'him.  Besides,  to  tell  you  the 
truth,  I  don't  know  any  Russ.  I  said  it  for  a 
joke.  But  you  see  I  was  right.  You  admit  it 
yourself  now.  I  was  just  sure  he  was  a  Rus- 
sian." 

At  that  moment,  as  she  spoke,  Mr.  Hayward 


CRS. 

lis  witch  should 
ig  brain.  "He 
le  murmured  at 
agland."    And, 

le's  peered  deep 
ir  keen  scrutiny. 
Yes,  but  it  isn't 
elf,  you  know  it 
u  be.  As  Rus- 
native  tongue's 
him  with  a  seu- 
)  see  how  it  con- 

ony.  Oh,  what 
tsped  his  hands 
sriminal.  "For 
lU  aghast.  "If 
>pt  that  I've  be- 
I  than  that.  If 
ssian,  I'll  Jump 
rsolf." 

less.  lone  took 
ilarmed  he  was, 

ortly.  "I'm  as 
grave.  I  won't 
I,  to  tell  you  the 

I  said  it  for  a 
You  admit  it 

he  was  a  Rus- 

>,  Mr.  Hayward 


UNDER  SEALED   ORDERS. 


69 


stalked  unconcernedly  out  of  the  guest-house  in 
the  rear.  "Daughter  of  all  the  Dracopolis, "  he 
said  gayly,  for  he  was  too  polite  to  go  on  calling 
her  lone  outright  even  at  her  own  request,  "it 
has  succeeded  very  well,  and  is  a  capital  photo- 
graph. To  what  address  in  Loudon  may  I  send 
you  the  positives?" 

But  even  as  he  said  it,  he  saw  what  a  mistake 
he  had  made.  For  it  was  giving  Owen  the  clew 
to  the  pretty  Greek's  address;  though,  after  all, 
if  one  came  to  think,  he  could  have  got  it  if  he 
was  so  minded  from  Sac  ha  any  day. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


DANGER   AHEAD. 


As  soon  as  the  photograph  was  finished,  lone 
prepared  to  go  her  own.  way  and  continue  her 
journey.  Ali  brought  round  her  horse,  ready 
saddled,  and  lone,  now  fully  dressed  in  her  em- 
broidered jacket  and  fez,  sprang  lightly  on  its 
back  with  an  easy  vault,  man-fashion. 

"Well,  it's  been  pleasant  to  meet  a  European 
face  again,  and  hear  a  vvonl  or  two  of  English," 
she  said,  turning  toward  them  with  a  sunny  smile 
on  those  full  rich  lips.  "I  don't  deny  that — 
though  I  came  here  to  escape  them.  It's  sc 
good  of  you  to  have  troubled  about  my  photo- 
graph,  too.      Thank  you  ever  so  much  for  it. 


N      <i 


^M 


diu^: 


;■■'**■   '^4r\^ 


.P', 


■:. 


.  i^ 


70 


UNDKB  SEALED  ORDEB8. 


And  now,  good- by.  We  may  meet  again  some 
day,  I've  no  doubt,  in  London." 

"All  fortuitous  atoms  clash  at  the  center  at 
last,"  Mr.  Hay  ward  answered,  in  his  sententious 
way,  raising  his  hat  and  holding  his  head  bare 
with  the  same  stately  courtesy  as  ever  till  she 
was  well  out  of  sight.  "  What's  your  next  stage 
to-day?    Where  do  you  go  from  here?" 

lone  looked  to  the  strapping  of  the  little  bag 
behind  her  saddle  as  she  answered,  gayly : 

"Taourirt;  Taourirt:  a  very  fanatical  and  tur- 
bulent village,  our  host  here  tells  me— no  photo- 
graphing mosques  there.  They  shoot  you  for 
amusement.  And  you,  Mr.  Hay  ward?  You'll 
be  sleeping  at — " 

"Duarzin,"  Mr.  Hay  ward  answered,  still  bare- 
headed by  the  gateway. 

"Good!"  lone  replied,  with  that  expansive 
smile  of  hers — too  expansive,  Owen  thought  to 
himself,  for  it  included  all  humanity.  And 
then  she  waved  them  a  friendly  adieu  with  her 
plump  ungloved  hand,  and  rode  off  like  a  sun- 
beam, rejoicing  in  her  strength  and  youth  and 
beauty. 

As  she  rounded  the  corner  out  of  sight  Mr. 
Hayward  turned,  and  gave  the  order  to  their 
own  servant  to  start  immediately.  Half-an- 
hour  later  they  were  threading  once  more,  single 
file,  the  narrow  bridle-paths  on  the  volcanic  hill- 
side. 

The  village  of  Ain-Essa,  from  which  they  had 
just  come,  like  mosb  others  in  the  Berber  uplands 
of  the  Atlas,  crowned  the  summit  of  a  small 


8..' 


eet  again  some 


b  the  center  at 
bis  sententious 
;  bis  head  bare 
ts  ever  till  she 
your  next  stage 
liere?" 
!  the  little  bag 

aaticul  and  tur- 
1  me— no  photo- 
shoot  you  for 
•ward?    You'll 

rered,  still  bare- 
that  expansive 
(Ten  thought  to 
imanity.  And 
adieu  with  her 
off  like  a  sun- 
and  youth  and 

it  of  sight  Mr. 
order  to  their 
ely.  Half-an- 
ice  more,  single 
iO  volcanic  hill- 

which  they  had 
Berber  uplands 
Euit  of  a  small 


VMDBR  SEALED   ORDBBS. 


71 


knoll,  and  all  roads  to  all  parts  converged  and 
diverged  at  a  spot  a  few  hundred  yards  on  the 
slope  below  it.  When  they  had  reachetl  this 
(^'lapham  Junction  of  the  local  highway  system 
Mr.  Hay  ward  halted  a  moment  in  C',\iht  and 
|if)inted  ahead  inquiringly  to  one  out  of  the  three 
laain  routes  that  branched  off  in  various  direc- 


uons. 


"Where  does  it  go?"  he  asked  their  servant  in 
.Yrabic. 

And  the  man,  bending  his  head,  made  answer : 

"Taourirt." 

Owen's  quick  ear,  accustomed  to  rapid  as- 
similation of  foreign  languages,  caught  the 
strange  sounds  at  once,  and  even  interpreted 
the  question  aright;  for  he  was  beginning  by 
this  time  to  pick  up  a  few  stray  words  of  Arabic. 
Taourirt!  That  was  where  lone  had  said  she 
was  going!  But  they  were  not  to  follow  her. 
Mr.  Hayward  looked  away  quickly,  and  turned 
to  the  second  one. 

"And  this?"  ho  asked,  pointing  to  the' west 
with  his  riding- whip. 

"Effendi,  to  Duarzin." 

Mr.  Hayward  shook  his  head  again.  That 
surprised  Owen  not  a  little.  For  Duarzin  was 
the  village  they  had  mapped  out  to  take  next 
in  due  course  on  their  route,  and  only  that  very 
morning,  too,  Mr.  Hayward  had  told  lone  he 
meant  to  go  there.  Now,  Mr.  Hayward,  he 
knew,  was  by  no  means  a  man  to  turn  lightly 
aside  from  any  resolve  once  made,  however  unr 
important. 


"The  third  one?" 
demtmstrative  crop. 

The  Arab  attendant  Hbrugged  his  shouUlors 
uneasily. 

"Ah,  Effendi,"  he  said,  "a  bad  road,  a  very 
bad  road,  indeed— and  a  wild  set  of  villagers.  It 
was  up  there  a  Spaniard,  a  very  rich  man,  was 
killed  by  the  dervishes  last  year,  out  of  hatred 
of  the  infidel.  I  don't  advise  you  to  try  there. 
It's  called  Beni-Mongellar^' 

In  spite  of  this  adjuration,  however,  Mr.  Hay- 
ward  loosened  his  rein,  and  took  the  last-named 
patli  without  a  word  of  explanation.  Owen  fol- 
lowed in  silence.  The  Arab  servant,  for  his 
part,  was  too  respectful  or  too  overawed  to  ven- 
ture on  questioning  him. 

They  rode  on  for  some  minutes  along  the  steep 
and  narrow  mule-track,  a  mere  ledge  on  the  hill- 
side, mounting  up  and  over  up,  beset  with  end- 
less loose  stones,  and  overhung  by  ragged  thickets 
of  prickly  cactus.  It  was  a  beautiful  scene.  To 
the  left,  rose  the  mountains,  donsely  wooded  to 
the  top  with  rich  and  luxuriant  southern  vegeta- 
tion; to  the  right,  yawned  the  ravine,  leading 
down  into  a  deep  valley,  tilled  in  patches  with 
scanty  corn  or  waving  gi*ay  with  silvery  olive 
grovos.  White  villages  perched  here  and  there 
on  buttressed  spurs  of  the  mountain-tops;  petty 
mosques  or  domed  tombs  and  whited  sepulchers 
of  dead  saints  served  to  diversify  the  principal 
heights  with  appropriate  local  landmarks.  Be- 
low lay  tangled  gorges  of  the  mountain  streams, 
pink  with  flowering  oleanders,  or  draped  by  rich 


sfcg-i'Sf^^ 


BRS. 

lice  more,  with 

I  his  shouUlors 

Ril  road,  a  very 
ot  villagers.  It 
'  rich  man,  was 
,r,  out  of  hatred 
■j\x  to  try  there. 

rever,  Mr.  Hay- 
the  last-named 
on.  Owen  fol- 
ervant,  for  his 
verawed  to  ven- 

along  the  steep 
Hlge  on  the  hill- 
beset  with  end- 
ragged  thickets 
tiful  scene.  To 
nsely  wooded  to 
louthern  vegeta- 
ravine,  leading 
in  patches  with 
th  silvery  olive 
I  here  and  there 
tain-tops;  petty 
aited  sepulchers 
fy  the  principal 
andmarks.  Be- 
untain  streams, 
r  draped  by  rich 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


" , '-y  t^"''"  7  * 


78 


festoons  of  creamy  African  clematis.  Now  and 
then,  near  the  villages,  they  just  spied  for  a  neo- 
ond  some  group  of  laughing  girls,  their  faces 
unveiled,  bearing  pitchers  on  thoir  heads,  aud 
passing  to  and  fro  with  loud  cries  and  merry 
chatter  from  the  fountain.  Mr.  Hay  ward  would 
have  given  much  to  get  a  snap  shot  at  such  a 
group;  but,  unfortunately,  the  Berber  wouifn 
were  as  timid  as  fawns,  and,  seeing  them,  tied 
scared  behind  the  shelter  of  the  trees,  or  peeped 
out  at  them  as  they  passed  from  behind  sonio 
darkling  doorway  with  the  mingled  curiosity  and 
fear  of  a  pack  of  shy  children. 

After  half  an  hour  or  more  of  this  silent  ride 
Owen  broke  in  suddenly  at  last : 

"I  thought,  Mr.  Haj'ward,  you  meant  to  go  (o 
Duarzin." 

f^'So  I  did,"  his  friend  answered  without  look- 
ing back  or  slackening  rein;  "but  at  the  very 
last  moment  I  changed  my  mind.  Modifiability 
of  opinion,  you  know,  Owen,  as  Herbert  Spencer 
says,  is  a  fair  rough  test  of  the  highest  intelli- 
gence." 

When  Mr.  Hay  ward  talked  like  that  Owen 
was  always  overawed.  Irrepressible,  cheery  En- 
glish schoolboy  that  he  was  at  heart,  those  short 
sentences  of  Mr.  Hayward's  shut  him  up  com- 
pletely. 

As  he  answered  nothing  of  himself,  then,  his 
friend  added,  after  a  pause: 

"I  wouldn't  go  to  Taourirt  because  Miss  Dra- 
copoli  said  she  was  going  there,  and  I  wouldn't 
go  to  Duarzin  because  I'd  told  Miss  Dracpp?li 


'-"ill 


■■a 


we  should  Hixjnd  the  night  thin-e  ourwdves,  and  1 
thought— well,  I  thought  pi^rhajw  whe  might  elect 
to  change  hor  mind,  tmd  go  on  there,  after  mU, 
on  pu!po6o  to  meet  us.-  S  >  now  you  see,  Owoii, 
I'm  alwa3'H  frank  with  you.  I've  I  ild  you  the 
whole  truth.  You  can  guess  the  rest  for  your- 
self. SoTue  men  in  my  place  would  have  con- 
cealed it  from  you  Bodulounly.  That's  not  my 
way,  my  boy.     I  tell  you  the  simple  (rnth,  nud 

I  tell   it  outright To  put  it  plainly,    I 

don't  think  it's  well  for  you  to  see  too  luch  of 
young  wonum  of  MIhs  Draeopoli'n     mperament." 

And  Mr.  Hay  ward  was  quite  right.  He  was 
acting,  as  usual,  with  all  the  wisdom  of  the  ser- 
pent and  all  the  innocence  of  the  dove.  By  thiin 
ing  straight  out  his  inmost  mir  1  to  ()\\  (>n  lie 
Wiis  putting  Owen  on  his  honor,  as  it  were,  and 
compelling  acquiescence.  For  Owen  was  Ku- 
glishman  enough  to  feel  such  generous  treat- 
ment bound  hirn  down  in  turn  to  the  intensest 
integrity.  If  Mr.  Hayward  didn't  wish  him  to 
see  more  of  lonS,  how  in  goodness'  nai^io  could  he 
ever  do  enough  to  avoid  her  in  future.' 

Not  that  he  was  so  very  anxious  to  meet  their 
new  friend  again,  though  she  took  his  fancy  im- 
mensely at  first  sight.  Her  freedom,  her  courage, 
her  frankness ,  her  innocence,  all  hit  him  hard  on 
the  tonderest  points;  and  ho  knew  it  already. 
But  it  was  the  principle  above  all  things  that 
troubled  him  sorely.  Did  Mr.  Hayward  mean 
to  put  him  thus  on  his  honor,  he  wondered,  uh 
to  lone  in  particular,  or  to  all  women  in  general? 
If  the  last,  that  was  surely  a  very  large  order  I 


rwdvep,  and  1 
tie  might  elect 
ere,  iiftrr  nil, 
DU  BOO,  Ovvdii, 
o  I  iUl  you  tho 
rest  for  yotir- 
uld  have  con- 
riuit'H  not  my 
[)le  truth,  luui 

it  plainly,  I 
■o  too  :  iijc'h  t>f 

lijperHmont." 
^'ht.  He  wns 
lorn  of  the  sur- 
ove.     By  thus 

1  to  Owen  lie 
Lsj  it  were,  nfid 
wen  wtis  Kii- 
enorous  troat- 
>  the  in  tensest 
t  wish  him  to 
name  could  he 
uro;' 

s  to  meet  their 
:  his  fancy  im- 
n,  her  courage, 
it  him  hard  on 
iw  it  already, 
ill  tbingH  that 
'ayward  moan 
3  wondered,  an 
ten  in  general? 
y  large  order  I 


UMDfiH 


Owen  wiw  just  gfr'^w^iuK  *o  ^^^  "J     when  a  pretty . 
girl  oxereisei!)  a  diHlinct  magnetic  iiiHuencu  oil  a 
young  mau's  ho  Did   Mr.    llaywa/tl    intend 

that  all  that  wide  of  human  nature  should  \m 
a  hliink  page  to  him?  Was  he  to  leiiu  an  an- 
chorite's life'r*  Did  the  Cause  demand  even  that 
painful  sacrifice  of  him? 

After  a  few  minutes'  pause  ho  spoke; 

"MissDracopoli  in  particular?"  ho  Jisked,  pur- 
suing his  own  train  of  thought,  as  if  Mr.  Hay- 
ward  had  been  following  it  all  the  tinu',  as  indeed 
was  the  case.     "Or  all  women  in  general?" 

Mr.  Hayward  turned  and  gazed  at  him — ^a 
mute,  imploring  ga/.e. 

"My  boy,"  he  said,  kindly,  but  with  a  sort  of 
ttsrror  in  his  eye,  "sooner  or  later  I  felt  this  sub- 
ject must  be  discussed  between  us;  and  to-day's 
an  good  an  occasion  for  discussing  it  as  any.  On 
this  point,  Owen,  I  fool  exactly  like  Paul:  I 
havt3  no  commandment  from  the  Lord  about  it, 
but  I  give  you  my  judgment.  *I  would  have 
you  without  carefulness.'  I  would  have  your 
himds  kept  free,  if  possible,  to  do  the  work  that's 
sot  before  you.  Remember,  love  aflfairs  are  a 
very  great  snare;  they  take  up  a  young  man's 
time  and  distract  his  attention.  That's  why 
I've  kept  single  to  this  day  myself.  There  are 
women  I  might  have  loved,  but  I've  cherished 
my  celibac;,r.  It  allowed  me  to  direct  my  un- 
divided energies  to  the  good  of  the  Cause.  'He 
that  is  unmarried,'  says  Paul,  'careth  for  the 
things  that  belong  to  the  Lord,  how  he  may  please 
the  Lord ;  but  he  that  is  married  careth  for  the 


76 


■,*(|^''.*' 


rNI>RK   HKAI.KP   ORI>RRM. 


tliini^  that  nm  of  tho  world,  Im)W  Ko  nmy  pleiiMn 
liiH  wife'  Th«re  you  hiivo  tlm  qtioHtion  in  a 
nntMhell.  And  ho,  liko  tho  ii|K)Htlo,  I  lay  no 
(U)iiuimnd  upon  you.  I'm  too  wiw?  for  thiit.  It 
you  must  fall  in  lovo,  you  ihii.hI,  huiI  no  (^aro  or 
lesolution  will  knei*  you  out  of  it.  But,  ut  any 
rate,  you  ucodn't  ruHli  into  tho  way  of  it  nw;u- 
lohwly.  Koop  your  hoad  vkmr  if  you  can,  and  lot 
tho  Cauw>  have  tho  heart  of  you." 

And  for  the  reHt  of  that  ride  Mr.  Hayward 
talk»Hl  on  with  unwonted  fretnlom  and  vi^or  of 
tho  (^auHO.  He  talked  much,  too,  of  hin  planw 
for  Owen's  futiiro  life,  and  of  how  tho  OauHo  waH 
to  be  benefited  by  \m  f^oiuK  into  the  diplomatic 
Horvire. 

"But  even  if  I  pot  an  attache' ^  jdaoe,"  Owen 
Haid  at  hiHt,  with  a  glanoe  as  he  paBseil  at  Hirreen 
ravine  below  them,  "how  can  you  ever  injure 
my  getting  nent  to  Petersburg?"  He  always 
t;poke  of  it  bo,  and  not  as  St.  Petersburg.  It's 
the  Russian  way,  and  he  had  picked  up  the  habit 
from  Mr.  Hayward. 

The  elder  man  smiUxl  a  calm,  serene  smile  of 
superior  wisdom. 

"My  dear  boy,"  he  said,  looking  back  at  him, 
"you  needn't  trouble  about  that.  Do  you  think 
I've  laid  my  scshemes  in  such  a  haphazard  way 
as  your  question  implies? — I,  Larnbert  Hayward? 
You  don't  know  me  yet,  Owen.  But  you  have 
no  need  to  muddle  your  head  about  such  trifles. 
Your  place  is  to  go  wherever  you  may  be  sent, 
and  to  wait  till  tho  signal  for  action  is  given  you. 
Till  then,  you  can  leave  all  with  perfect  safety 


i 


ijiiftiiiSiiSti- 


m: 


Iio  nmy  j)leiiM«t 
(pioHtiun  ill  a 
Htlo,  1  lay  iin 
(o  for  thiit.  Jt 
Hud  n<»  can'  or 
But,  at  jiny 
iviiy  of  it  iui».'»i- 
ou  run,  mid  let 

Mr.  Hiiywunl 
n  Jiml  vi^or  of 
o,  of  liin  i>lrtnH 
r  tho  (^aufK*  waH 
the  diplomatic; 

jilaoe,"  Owen 
aHsecl  at  a  fjcrnan 
ou  ever  itmuro 
"  He  always 
jtersburg.  It's 
ed  up  the  habit 

serene  smile  of 

ig  back  at  him, 
Do  you  think 
haphazard  waj' 
bert  Hay  ward? 
But  you  have 
out  such  trifles, 
u  may  be  sent, 
jn  18  given  you. 
h.  perfect  safety 


ITNDRR  NKALBD  ORDERS. 


77 


to  mo.  When  tlie  Hignul  oomcM,  you  must  Ktrike, 
and  Htriki>  homo;  and  as  long  as  this  world  lasts, 
II  grateful  country  will  rtMiipmbt>r  you." 

"1  sen,"  ( )wen  answorod,  almost  blushiiig  for 
his indiflcrotinn  in  asking.  "I  might  have  guusst^d 
it,  I  know.  You  do  nothing  rartilessly.  And  I 
understand  how  many  strings  you  hold  in  your 
hand  »t  once;  how  intricate  to  pull,  how  diffi- 
cult to  co-ordinalc.  I  reali/«>  how  you're  in  touch 
with  every  chortl  and  pulse  of  this  vast  organiza- 
tion the  whole  world  ovor.  Don't  think,  Mr. 
Hayward,  I  undervalue  tho  privilege  of  iHting 
so  trusted  by  you,  and  of  living  so  near  you. 
Don't  think  I  doubt  for  a  moment  your  power  to 
ari-ango  this  or  almost  anything  else  you  seriously 
set  your  mind  upon.  Only,  I  wondered,  e:ven 
with  all  your  influence,  how  you  could  so  far 
pull  tho  wires  of  tho  Foreign  Office  in  England 
as  to  get  a  particular  attache  sent  to  Petersburg 
or  to  Vienna." 

The  smile  on  Mr.  Hayward's  lips  grew  deei)er 
and  wiser  than  ever.  Ho  turned  his  head  once 
more  and  answered  in  the  same  masterful  tone 
as  before: 

"Owen,  you  take  far  too  much  for  granted. 
You  think  you  fathom  mQ,  my  boy;  you  think 
you  fathom  me.  Many  men  and  women  harve 
tried  to  do  that  in  their  time,  but  not  one  of  them 

has  succeeded Why,  who  told  you  I  ever 

meant  you  to  go  to  Petersburg  at  all?  Pure  in- 
ference of  your  own,  pure  human  inference.  I 
never  said  so."  He  paused  a  moment  and  re- 
flected.    Then  he  went  on  again  more  confiden- 


78 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS, 


tiall)^  "See  here,"  he  said,  dropping  his  voice 
by  pure  habit  even  in  those  unpeopled  wilds. 
"It's  not  in  Russia  itself  that  we  stand  the  best 
chance  of  striking  a  decisive  blow  at  this  hateful 
autocracy.  Quite  the  contrary;  nowhere  else 
in  the  world  are  our  opportunities  so  small,  or 
the  defense  so  active.  There  we're  watched, 
numbered,  thwarted,  conspired  against,  counter- 
plotted ;  there  we're  held  in  check  by  endless  spies 
and  police  and  soldiers ;  there  the  men  and  women 
of  the^ Romanoff  horde  are  guarded  night  and  day 
by  innumerable  precautions.  In  Russia  itself  I 
dnubt  whether  oven  an  English  attacM  could 
ever  get  near  enough  the  person  of  the  chief 
criminal  or  his  leading  accomplices  to  effect  any- 
thing practical.  He  might,  of  course,  or  he 
mightn't.  But  that  isn't  the  plan  I  have  in 
view  for  you,  Owen.  I  mean  to  let  them  send 
you  wherever  they  like.  And  wherever  you  go, 
you'll  be  equally  useful  to  us." 

"More  perhaps  elsewhere  than  at  Petersburg 
itself,"  Owen  suggested,  as  calmly  as  if  it  were 
the  merest  ordinary  business.  He  had  been 
brought  up  to  regard  it  so,  and  it  was  so  that 
he  regarded  it. 

"More  perhaps  elsewhere,"  Mr.  Hay  ward  as- 
sented with  a  nod.  "Much  more  perhaps  else- 
where. At  Petersburg  you  might  pick  up  for 
us  some  useful  information,  and  being  an  En- 
glishman and  a  member  of  the  embassj'-,  you'd 
be  the  less  suspected  of  having  anything  to  do 
with  us.  But  elsewhere,  you  would  manage  far 
more  than  that,     You  might  have  access  to  the 


kKSa 


KS, 

)ping  his  voice 

peopled  wilds. 

stand  the  best 

at  this  hateful 

nowhere  else 

es  80  small,  or 

'^e're   watched, 

;aiust,  counter- 

)y  endless  spies 

aen  and  women 

[  night  and  day 

Russia  itself  I 

attach^  could 

n  of  the  chief 

3S  to  effect  any- 

course,   or  he 

ilan  I  have  in 

;  let  them  send 

lerever  you  go, 

1  at  Petersburg 
ily  as  if  it  were 
He    had    been 

[  it  was  so  that 

* 

r.  Hay  ward  as- 
re  perhaps  else- 
fht  pick  up  for 
I  being  an  En- 
embassj'',  you'd 
anything  to  do 
uld  manage  far 
ve  access  to  the 


UNDER  SEALED   ORDERS. 


Romanoffs  themselves  whenever  one  of  them 
came  by.  There's  nowhere  they  mayn't  come 
—they  r^ervade  all  Europe— Copenhagen,  Athens, 
Nice,  Florence,  Brussels;  and  even  the  jealous 
care  of  the  most  friendly  police  can't  exclude 
from  their  circle  member-^  of  the  diplomatic 
body.  Why,  they're  not  even  safe  in  Asia  it- 
self; we  dogged  them  through  India.  One  of 
them  was  wounded  the  other  day  in  Japan ;  an- 
other was  attacked — though  all  that  was  hushed 
up  —  at  the  Taj  at  Agra.  Therein  lies  our 
strength,  iny  boy;  we're  ubiquitous  and  irre- 
pressible. The  criminals  never  know  from  what 
unexpected  point  at  what  unexpected  moment 
the  ministers  of  justice  may  overtake  them  and 
pounce  down  upon  them.  And  what  would  ter- 
rify them  more  than  the  sudden  discovery  some 
day,  in  the  midst  of  the  festivities  of  some  for- 
eign court,  that  a  minister  of  justice  stood  un- 
noticed even  there,  in  the  guise  of  an  envoy  of 
some  friendly  brother  potentate?  We  want  to 
make  it  impossible  for  any  man,  however  brave, 
to  accept  the  bad  emiuence  of  autocrat  and  jailer- 
in-chief  of  all  the  Russias.  Can  you  imagine 
any  plan  more  likely  to  accomplish  our  end  than 
this  plan  of  striking  a  blow  where  it's  least  ex- 
pected by  the  hand  of  one  who  had  always  passed 
for  a  neutral  Englishman,  and  whose  very  con- 
nection with  the  Cause  or  the  People  in  Russia 
none  but  ourselves  would  ever  so  much  as  dream 
of  suspecting?" 

Owen  glanced  ahead  at  hini  admiringly. 

"Mr.  Hay  ward,"  he  said,  with  profound  con- 


If 


80 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


viction,  "you're  a  wonderful  man.  If  any  one 
can  free  Russia,  you  surely  will  do  it !  It  makes 
mv  proud  ta  have  sat  at  such  a  patriot's  feot. 
Forgive  me  if  I've  asked  you  too  much  to-day 
I'm  only  the  very  least  of  your  subordinates,  1 
know,  and  I  never  want  to  worm  out  more  than 
the  commander  in-chief  himself  willingly  tells 
mo." 

Mr.  Hay  ward  gave  him  a  look  of  true  paternal 
kindliness. 

"Right,  my  boy,"  he  said,  warmly.  You're 
always  right.  I  never  had  any  one  I  could  trust 
and  be  trusted  by  like  you,  from  the  very  begin- 
ning. That  gives  me  much  hope.  Though  things 
look  black  ahead  now." 

And  then,  in  a  voice  full  of  fiery  indignation,  he 
gave  way  all  at  once  in  a  very  rare  outburst,  and 
began  to  recount  in  rapid  words  a  whole  string 
of  terrible  atrocities  in  Siberia  and  elsewhere, 
detailed  to  him  in  cipher  by  his  last  budget  from 
St.  Petersburg.  ,  Owen  listened,  and  felt  his  blood 
boil  within  him.  Not  for  nothing  had  Mr.  Hay- 
ward  trained  up  in  the  faith  his  Nihilist  neophyte. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

V 

FAMILY      BUSINESS, 


In  Mor.cuo,  these  things.  Away  over  in  St. 
Petersburg,  that  self  -  same  day,  a  lady  was 
closeted  close  in  a  bureau  of  the  Third  Section 


If  any  one 

it !  It  makes 
)atri{>t'8  feet, 
nuch  to-day 
ibordinates,  1 
at  more  thjin 
illingly  tells 

true  paternal 

nly.     You're 

I  could  trust 

e  very  begin- 

'hough  things 

dignation,  be 
outburst,  and 
whole  string 
tid  elsewhere, 
;  budget  from 
I  felt  his  blood 
had  Mr.  Hay- 
list  neophyte. 


s. 

i,y  over  in  St. 

a  lady   was 

riiird  Section 


UNDER  SEALED   ORDERS. 


81 


with  that  stern  military  policeman,  General 
Alexis  Selistoff. 

"And  so  you've  obtained  some  influence  with 
him,  you  think,  Madame  Mireff?"  the  general 
said,  musing  and  twirling  his  bronzed  thumbs. 

"Influence!"  Madame  Mireff  repeated,  with 
a  bland  feminine  smile.  "I  can  just  twist  him 
round  my  fingers — so,"  and  she  suited  the  action 
to  the  word.  "As  a  statesman,  of  course,  Lord 
Caistor's  unapproachable  and  irreproachable :  we 
all  know  that;  but  as  a  man  ....  well,  he's 
human.  I  take  him  on  the  human  side— and  I 
do  what  I  like  with  bim." 

The  general  smiled  responsive — a  grim  smile 
and  sardonic. 

"Politics,"  he  murmured,  in  a  very  soft  voice, 
like  a  woman's  for  gentleness — though  to  be  sure 
it  was  he  who  flogged  a  Polish  lady  to  death  once 
at  Warsaw  for  some  trifling  act  of  insubordina- 
tion to  the  Government  orders — "politics  have  a 
morality  all  of  their  own." 

Madame  Mireff  assented  with  a  graceful 
nod. 

"Though  you  mustn't  for  a  moment  suppose," 
she  said,  hesitating,  "that  our  personal  rela- 
tions— " 

The  general  was  a  gentleman.  (In  Russia 
that  quality  is  by  no  means  incompatible  with 
flogging  women  to  death  when  the  morality 
peculiar  to  politics  sanctions  or  even  demands 
such  an  extreme  act  of  discipline.)  He  cut  her 
short  at  once  with  a  polite  wave  of  the  hand. 

"My  dear  Madame  Mireff,"  he  said,  in  his 


'ifi. 


>  y  ,. 


^?e! 


:-m€ 


H 


i^. 


82 


UNDER  SEALED  Ol>DERS. 


"I  hope  you  don't  think 
imagine  that  a  lady  of 


most  deprecating  tone, 

I  could  for  one  second 

your  character — "  one  outstretched  palm  and  a 

half-averted  face  completed  the  sentence. 

"Of  course  you  understand  me,"  Madame 
Mireflf  went  on,  blushing  a  trifle  even  so.  "  We 
are  friends,  he  and  I— that's  all.  The  earl  is  an 
able  man,  and  a  keen  politician;  but  in  private 
life  he's  a  most  charming  person.  We  got  on 
together  admirably.  Figurez  vous  that  I  go 
down  to  stop  now  and  then  with  dear  Lady  Cais- 
tor  at  Sherringham-on-Sea ;  and  there  I  have  the 
earl  to  myself  half  the  day  in  the  garden  or  the 

drawing-room We  never  talk  politics, 

general,  you  must  understand.  Pas  si  bete  que 
ga,  I  need  hardly  tell  you.  I  influence  him  gen- 
tly; the  dropping  of  water  on  a  stone;  a  constant 
imperceptible  side  -  pressure,  if  I  may  so  say. 
Russia  in  the  abstract ;  a  Russian  woman  in  the 
concrete— that's  all  I  have  to  play  against  his 
astuteness  and  his  suspicion.  Our  sincerity,  our 
devotion,  our  simple  natural  straightforwardness, 
our  enthusiasm  for  humanity — those  are  the  chief 
chords  of  my  poor-stringed  lute.  I  harp  on  it  al- 
ways, though  not,  I  hope,  monotonously-  It  tells 
upon  him  in  the  end.  You  can  see  it  telling  upon 
him.  He  says  to  himself:  'The  character  of  the 
units  determine  the  character  of  the  aggregate. 
A  nation  made  up  of  units  like  this  must 
be  on  the  whole  a  tolerably  decent  one.'  And 
it  influences  his  policy.  You  must  notice 
for  yourself  he's  less  distrustful  of  us  than 
formerly."  > 


M 


u  don't  think 
;hat  a  lady  of 
d  palm  and  a 
tence. 

3,"  Madame 
'en  so.  "  We 
Phe  earl  is  an 
ut  in  private 

We  get  on 
lis  that  I  go 
it  Lady  Cais- 
Bre  I  have  the 
garden  or  the 
talk  politics, 
IS  fii  bete  que 
mce  him  gen- 
ie; a  constant 
may  so  say. 
woman  in  the 
y  against  his 
sincerity,  our 
tforwardness, 
le  are  the  chief 

harp  on  it  al- 
usly-  It  tells 
it  telling  upon 
tafacter  of  the 
he  aggregate, 
^e  this  must 
it  one.'     And 

must    notice 

of    us    than 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


83 


The  general  leaned  back  in  his  round  office 
chair— neatly  padded  in  brown  leather,  stamped 
with  the  imperial  arms— and  surveyed  her  criti- 
cally. No  wonder  a  statesman  who  accepted 
Madame  Mireff  as  the  typical  Russian  should 
think  well  of  the  country  whose  tangible  embodi- 
ment and  representative  she  proclaimed  herself. 
For  a  handsomer  ripe  woman  of  forty- five  you 
wouldn't  wish  to  see  anywhere  than  OlgaMirefif. 
Her  figure  was  full  and  round,  yet  not  tao  full 
or  too  round  for  the  most  fastidious  taste ;  her 
charms  were  mature,  yet  all  the  richer  for  their 
maturity.  An  intelligent,  earnest,  enthusiastic 
face;  great  child-like  eyes ;  a  sweet  and  generous 
smile;  rare  beauty  of  feature,  rare  naivete  of 
expression — all  these  went  to  the  making  up  of 
a  most  engaging  personality.  Her  hands  were 
plump,  but  soft  and  white  and  dimpled.  Her 
motions  were  slow,  but  they  quickened  with 
animation,  and  grew  positively  mercurial  under 
the  influence  of  enthusitiem.  The  very  woman. 
General  Selistoff  thought  to  himself,  to  twist 
round  her  fingere,  as  she  said,  a  clever  and  im- 
pressionable foreign  secretary  like  Lord  Caistor. 
Alexis  Selistoff  had  never  had^  a  better-made  in- 
strument to  work  with.  This  little  wedge  of 
feminine  insinuation  might  enable  him  in  time 
to  permeate  the  whole  inert  mass  of  English 
opinion.  The  general  paused,  and  fingered  hia 
waxed  mustache. 

"And  you  go  back  again  to-morrow?"  ho  said, 
still  surveying  her  with  approbation. 

Madame  Mireff  nodded  assent. 


'w , 


M 


trr.N,, 


84 


UNDER  SEALED   OBDER8. 


"Unless  you  wish  it  otherwise,"  she  answered. 
"I  am  yours  to  command.  But  if  you  see  no 
objection — then  to  London,  to-morrow." 

Tlie  man  of  politics  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
They  were  broad  and  well-set. 

"Oh,  as  for  my  wishes,  chere  dame,"  he  said, 
with  an  air  of  official  disclaimer,  "you  knoAr 
very  well  they  have  nothing  at  all  to  do  with  the 
matter.  You  are  not  and  never  were  an  agent 
of  the  Government.  If  you  drop  in  here  for  a 
chat  with  me,  in  a  moment  of  leisure,  yon  drop 
in  as  a  friend  —  nothing  more,  bien  entendu. 
Some  little  relaxation—some  little  interlude  of 
the  charms  of  female  society— may  surely  be  al- 
lowed us  in  a  life  sa  monot  jnous  and  s^  deadly 
dull  as  this  eternal  routine  of  ours.  I  sign  my 
own  name  on  an  average  three  huudred  and 
seventy-four  times  per  diem.  But  as  to  busi- 
ness—business— you  have  nothing  to  do  with 
that.  La  hatUe  politique  is  not  a  lady's  affair. 
Tape,  dockets,  files,  pigeon-holes— those  are  ad- 
ministration, if  you  will.  But  a  vinit  to  En- 
gland by  an  unauthorized  Russian  lady" —  he 
gazed  at  her  hard— "mere  private  gadding.  Dis- 
abuse your  mind  as  to  that,  madame,- disabuse 
your  mind  as  to  that ;  though  I  know  you  don't 
even  need  to  be  told  to  disabuse  yourself." 

Madame  Mireffs  smile  as  bespoke  those  words 
was  a  study  in  complexity.  It  contained  in  it- 
self four  or  five  smiles  superposed,  in  distinct 
straBa,  and  one  .if  them,  perhaps,  would  have  sur- 
prised General  Selistoff  not  a  little  had  he  known 
its  tvM.  import.     But  madame  didn't  enlighten 


9. 


he  answered. 


if  you  see  no 

■ovv." 

lis  shoulders. 

mf,"  he  said, 
,  "you  knojv 
10  do  with  tho 
vere  an  agent 
>  in  here  for  a 
ire,  you  drop 
ien  entendu. 
9  interlude  of 
-•  surely  be  al- 
and 8^  deadly 
.  I  sign  my 
hundred  and 
it  as  to  busi- 
5  to  do  with 
I  lady's  aflfair. 
•those  are  ad- 
vipit  to  En- 
,n  lady"-—  he 
adding.  Dis- 
ame,«  disabuse 
10 w  you  don't 
urself." 
ce  those  words 
Mitained  in  it- 
)d,  in  distinct 
3uld  have  sur- 
had  he  known 
In't  enlighten 


UNDBR  SBAIvED  ORDERS. 


86 


him  on  that  abstruse  point.     She  only  answered, 
submissively: 

"I'm  well  aware  of  those  facts,  general.  My 
one  object  in  life  is  to  serve  my  country  and  my 
Czar,  unobtrusively  and  unofficially,  by  such 
simple  private  influence  as  a  mere  woman  can 
(>xert  in  a  foreign  capital." 

Though  madame  knew  very  well  in  her  own 
lieart  that  a  Russian  lady  would  never  be  per- 
mitted to  exercise  influence  on  English  politics, 
directly  or  indirectly,  in  whatever  caimcity,  un- 
less it  suited  the  Government  she  should  unoffi- 
cially represent  it.  And  so,  too,  did  General 
Solistoff.  Had  it  been  otherwise— no  passport 
;it  the  very  least;  perhaps  oven  imprisonment, 
the  mines,  Siberia. 

They  looked  at  one  another,  and  smiled  again, 
with  their  tongues  in  their  chooks,  mentHlly 
speaking,  like  the  Roman  augurs  when  they 
n lot  in  private.     Then  the  general  spoke  again: 

"And  Prince  Ruric  Brassoff?"  he  said,  with 
,ui  ugly  frown  on  his  high  bronzed  forehead. 
"Still  no  trace  of  him  anywhere?  You  haven't 
ono  hope  of  a  clew?     How  that  man  eludes  ue!" 

"No,"  Madame  Mire"'  answered,  demurely, 
laying  one  plump  hand  - '  th  resignation  over 
the  other  and  shaking  a  solemn  head.  "He 
eludes  us  still.  How  can  you  hope  to  catch 
him?  I  feel  convinced  even  his  own  associates 
d.n't  know  where  he  is.  I've  made  every  in- 
(|airy.  The  man  works  like  a  mole  underground, 
popping  up  here  and  there  for  a  moment  to  take 
breath,  as  it  were,  or  not  even  that.     He's  in- 


II 


86 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


SjSSt 


t^ 


visible  and  incalculable.  Nobody  ever  sees  him ; 
nobody  ever  talks  with  him;  only  written  mes- 
sages flutter  down  now  and  again  from  the  sky 
or  from  unknown  sources,  bearing  an  Egyptian 
postmark,  it  may  bo,  or  a  Maltese,  or  a  Nor- 
wegian, or  a  Sicilian.  They're  not  even  in  his 
own  hand,  they  say — not  the  bulk  of  the  docu- 
ments; only  the  Higniiture's  his;  the  rest's  typo- 
written,  or  copied  by  an  fimanuoiiBifi,  or  dictuteu, 
or  in  cipher.  His  subordinates  liuvo  nothing  to 
go  upon  but  those  two  inysterious  words,  'Itu/ic 
Brassoff,'  at  the  bt-ttom  of  an  order.  Hut  they 
obey  it  as  implicitly  as  if  it  fell  upon  them  from 
heaven.  Most  of  them  have  never  set  eyes  u\)(in 
the  man  himself  in  their  lives  at  all;  nobody  on 
earth  has  set  eyes  upon  him  for  ten  years  pfist; 
yet  there  he  is  still,  wrapped  in  the  clouds  as  it 
were,  but  pulling  all  the  strings  just  as  clearly 
as  ever.  It's  a  most  mysterious  case.  Though, 
after  all,  as  a  diplomat,  one  can  hardly  help 
admiring  him." 

General  Selistoff  looked  up  sharply  at  her  in 
a  surprised  sort  of  way.  Born  bureaucrat  that 
he  was,  he  couldn't  understand  how  any  one 
could  admire  even  the  cleverest  and  most  auda- 
oious  of  rebels. 

"Well,  that's  a  matter  of  opinion,"  he  said, 
slowlj',  pressing  his  thumb  very  tight  on  the 
edge  of  his  desk.  "For  my  part,  if  I'd  Ruric 
Brassoff 's  neck  under  here  this  minute — "  tlio 
thumb  was  raised  for  one  second  and  then 
squeezed  down  again  significaQtlj\  General 
Selistoff  paused   once   more.     His  eyes  looked 


% 


>ERS. 


dy  over  sees  hitn ; 
tily  written  mos- 
uin  from  the  sky 
iiifj  an  Egyptian 
iltese,  or  a  Nor- 
3  uot  even  in  his 
tulk  of  the  docii- 
;  the  rest's  tyju;- 
iiHiF,  or  diotatoi'i, 

have  notliiit^  to 
is  words,  'Itiiiin 
irder.     iJut  they 

upon  them  from 
r'er  set  eyes  uj>0)) 
t  all ;  nohody  on 
r  ten  years  past; 

the  clouds  as  it 
[8  just  as  clearly 

case.  Though, 
?au  hardly  help 

iharply  at  her  iu 
bureaucrat  that 
d  how  any  one 
and  most  auda- 

linion,"  he  said, 
?y  tight  on  tue 
,rt,  if  I'd  Ruric 
i  minute — "  the 
jcoud  and  then 
mtlj\  General 
lis  eyes  looked 


UNDER  SEALED  0RDHR8. 


87 


away  into  the  abysses  of  space.  "Ruric  Brass- 
off,"  he  repeated,  slowly;  "Ruric  Brassoff! 
Iluric  Brnssoff!  If  only  wo  could  catch  that 
(11(3  single  man,  we  wouldn't  take  long  to  crush 
out  the  wholo  infernal  conspiracy." 

"You  think  bdV"  madamo  inquired,  looking 


'111. 


"He's  its  head,"  the  bureaucrat  answered,  im- 
patiently. "No  organization  on  earth  can  pos- 
sibly gi>  on  when  its  head's  cut  off."  And  he 
liad  hati  experience,  too,  in  the  results  p^"  4'^capi- 
tiiH(/n. 

"We  got  on,  somehow,  after  our  late  beloved 
C/HT  WHS  fru/rdered  by  these  wretches, "  madame 
jiiil  in,  very  gravely 

The  general  sat  up  stiff  ffe  didn't  like  tids 
turn.  'Twas  beta  nth  hira  to  bandy  words  and 
.irgnments  with  a  woruari, 

"Well,  you'll  not  relax  your  ciforts,  at  utiy 
rate,"  he  said,  more  coldly,  "to  get  some  clew  to 
Prince  Ruric  Brassoff's  whereabouts.  Remem- 
ber— five  hundred  thousand  roubles  and  the  title 
of  Princess.  Ceaseless  vigilance  is  our  only  re- 
s,)urce.  Leave  no  stone  unturned.  Under  one 
or  other  of  them,  we  know,  must  lurk  the  scor- 
pion that  bit  us." 

"True,"  madame  answered,  relapi<ing  into  pure 
submissiveness— for  she  saw  it  was  wisest. 

"And  there's  one  other  point  I  want  to  suggest 
to  you,"  the  general  went  on,  somewhat  molli- 
fied. "A  very  painful  point;  but  I  must  bring 
myself  to  speak  of  it.  I've  often  thought  of 
mentioning  it  to  you,  dear  madame.  before,  and 


■f<^^.ti,'p.^-'f,\fii'!/fti  ■ 


-  *^*~~iiAi^.-'  -  4*J*i     "k 


.^%      - 


,    l^^^-^'^fi^il^'iMt.     ,' 


■■ 


■ 


when  it  came  to  the  point,  I've  always  been 
naturally  rolti  tant."  Ho  dropped  his  voice 
suddenly.  "You'll  understand  why,"  he  went 
on,  "when  I  tell  you  it  rohites  to  my  unhappy 
and  miriguided  brother,  Sorgiua  Selistoff." 

Madame  Miroff  bowed  her  head  with  a  sym- 
pathotic  inclination.  She  lot  a  rhetorical  pause 
of  some  seconds  elapse  before  she  answered  the 
general,  whoiie  own  eyes  fell,  abashed,  as  is 
natural  when  one  mentions  some  disgraceful 
episode  in  one's  family  history.  Then  she  mur- 
mured in  a  lower  key : 

"I  understand  perfectly.  I  never  expected  to 
hoar  that  name  mentioned  in  this  room  again ; 
and  unless  you  had  brought  it  up  yourself,  you 
can  readily  believe,  excellency,  I  wouldn't  have 
dared  to  allude  to  it." 

"No,  no,"  the  general  continued,  forcing  him- 
self to  speak  with  difficulty.  "But  I'm  anxious 
to  find  out  something  about  his  family  and  affairs, 
and  you're  the  only  person  on  earth,  dear  madame, 
to  whose  hands  I  could  endure  to  confide  the  in- 
quiry. To  no  one  else  but  yourself  could  I  bring 
myself  to  speak  about  it,  Sergius  had  a  boy,  you 
know — in  fact,  two  children,  a  boy  and  a  girl. 
Before  he  was  sent  to  Siberia,  after  his  treachery 
became  known,"  and  the  old  bureaucrat  spoke 
like  one  weighed  down  with  shame,  "those  chil- 
dren were  spirited  away,  somehow,  out  of  the 
country.  You  know  their  history,  I  suppose. 
You  know  the  circumstances  of  that  unfortunate 
marriage." 

"Not  in  full,"  madame  answered,  all  respeot- 


■:;^ii^s^a:^:iSLSiuiti:.^. 


R8. 

e  always  been 
iped  his  voice 
irhy,'.'  he  went 
,o  my  unhappy 
olJBtoff." 
id  with  a  Hym- 
iietorical  pause 
e  answered  the 
abashed,  as  is 
ne  disgraceful 
Tlien  she  mur- 

ver  expected  to 

s  room  again; 

3  yourself,  you 

wouldn't  have 

3,  forcing  him- 
ut  I'm  anxious 
lily  and  affairs, 
,  dear  madame, 
i  confide  the  in- 
If  could  I  bring 
I  had  a  boy,  you 
3oy  and  a  girl. 
)r  his  treachery 
xreaucrat  spoke 
ae,  "those  chil- 
DW,  out  of  the 
>ry,  I  suppose, 
lat  unfortunate 

■ed,  all  respeot- 


Tmftmmi- 


UKDKR   HRAl.KI)    OKDKKH. 


fill  Mjinpathy.  "  And  when  one'n  engaged  on  a 
matter  of  the  kind,  it's  best,  of  courHe,  to  know 
.•U.  I've  only  heard  that  Sergius  SeliHtoff  mar- 
liod  an  Knglirth  wotniin." 

The  gotu'cal  bowed  his  head  onc^e  more. 

' '  Yes,  an  English  v^oman, ' '  he  answered.  ' '  Biit 
tbat'H  not  all.  A  public  Hinder  at  Vienna,  w  .u, 
us  wo  have  reaHon  to  believe,  for  her  family's 
Hake  Hang  under  an  asHumed  name,  and  wliose 
lolationa  in  England  we've  never  been  able  to 
trace  since  Sergius  ....  went  to  the  fate  re- 
served for  tr  litDrH.  Ou  the  morning  when  the 
administrative  order  was  insuod  from  this  office 
f;)r  my  brother's  arrest  —  I  signed  it  myseif — 
Madame  Selistoff  and  the  children  disappeared 
from  Petersburg  as  if  by  magic.  My  sister-in- 
law,  as  you  must  have  heard,  was  discovered, 
laving  mad,  a  few  weeks  later,  in  the  streetw  of 
Wilna,  though  how  or  why  she  got  there  nobtxly 
ever  kiu  ^v;  and  from  that  day  till  her  death, 
Kome  seven  months  afterward,  she  did  nothing 
but  cry  that  her  children  at  lefist  must  be  saved 
—her  children  at  least  mutif  got  iiway  safe  from 
that  awful  place  to  England."  The  old  man 
stroked  his  mustache.  "It  was  terrible,"  he 
said,  slowly,  "terrible  what  suffering  Sergius 
brought  upon  us  all,  and  on  that  unhappy 
woman." 

"It  was  terrible,  indeed,"  Madamo  Mirefif  an- 
swered, with  a  look  of  genuine  horror. 

"Well,  what  1  want  just  now,"  the  general 
continued,  rising  up  in  all  the  height  of  his  great 
Russian  figure,  and  going  to  a  little  cupboard, 


ii»..-  *■ 


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Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  NY.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


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90 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


from  which  he  brought  forth  a  small  bundle  of 
hrown  and  dusty  papers,  "what  I  want  just  now 
is  that  you  should  try  to  find  out  for  me  in  En- 
gland— whether  those  children  are  there  still,  and 
in  whose  keeping." 

"Perfectly,"  raadame  answered,  "You  wish 
—perhaps — to  be  of  service  to  the  boy ;  to  bring 
your  brother's  son  back  to  Russia  again,  give 
him  the  rank  of  a  Selistoff,  and  make  him  a  loyal 
subject  of  our  beloved  Emperor." 

The  old  man  brought  his  fist  down  on  his  desk 
with  a  resounding  blow. 

"No,  no!  "  he  cried,  fiercely,  his  face  lighting 
up  with  indignation.  "Ten  thousand  times  no! 
I  renounce  Sergius  Selistoff  and  all  his  works 

forever The  boy's  no  nephew  of  mine — 

no  true-born  Selistoff— j» a  English  half-breed  by 
a  rebel  father.  I'd  send  him  to  the  mines,  as  I 
gent  my  brother  before  b  im,  if  only  I  could  catch 
hi;n.      As  Sergk^s  diec .,  so  his  son  should  die 

in  turn A  Selistoff,  did  you  say?     Our 

blood  disowns  the  whole  brood  of  the  traitor." 

"I  see,"  madame  answered,  with  true  Russian 
impassivetiess.  Not  a  muscle  of  her  face  moved. 
Not  a  quiver  passed  over  her.  Only  the  long 
black  lashes  drooped  above  the  great  child-like 
eyes.  "And  you  want  me  to  find  out  where 
they're  living  now?  Well,  if  anybody  in  En- 
gland can  track  them,  I  can  promise  it  will  be 
I. — Names,  ages,  and  descriptions'  I  see  you 
have  them  there  all  pat  in  your  dossier." 

The  general  undid  the  bundle  with  an  unwonted 
trembling  in  those  iron  fingers.  Then  he  stretched 


iiTiirriiTiiir^iiiaBfriarrrfaiirTiifBi-r'^^-"^ — r'"- 


>EBS. 


small  bundle  of 
I  want  just  now 
ut  for  me  in  Ba- 
re there  still,  and 

ed.  "You  wish 
le  boy;  to  bring 
issia  again,  give 
nake  him  a  loyal 

town  on  his  desk 

his  face  lighting 

»usand  times  no ! 

ad  all  his  works 

ephew  of  mine — 

sh  half-breed  by 

>  the  mines,  as  I 

aly  I  could  catch 

son  should  die 

you  say?    Our 

•f  the  traitor." 

ith  true  Russian 

her  face  moved. 

Only  the  long 

I  great  child-like 

find  out  where 

anybody  in  En- 

romise  it  will  be 

ons'    I  see  you 

dossier." 

nth.  an  unwonted 

'hen  he  stretched 


T 


UNDER  SEALED   ORDERS. 


91 


out  the  papers  before  Madame  Mireff's  keen 
cyoa. 

"Alexandra,  aged  four,  at  ^he  time  of  her 
flight,  would  now  be  twenty-five,  or  thereabout," 
he  said,  quivering.  "Sergius,  a  baby  in  arms, 
between  twenty  and  twenty-one.  Here,  j'ou  see, 
are  their  descriptions,  and  such  details  as  we 
could  recover  of  the  mother's  family.  But  it 
was  a  mesalliance,  you  must  understand,  for  a 
Russian  nobleman ;  a  complete  mesalliance.  She 
gave  her  name  at  the  ceremony  as  Aurora  Mont- 
morency ;  but  we  believe  it  to  have  been  false, 
and  we  don't  know  the  real  one.  Your  biisiuess 
will  bo  only  to  hunt  up  these  people;  mine  to 
crush  them,  when  found,  as  one  would  crush 
beneath  one's  heel  a  brood  of  young  vipers." 

"Perfectly,"  madame  answered,  with  a  charm- 
ing smile.  "I  understand  my  mission,  excel- 
lency.    I  will  obey  your  instructions." 


CHAPTEpi   X. 

AN  UNEXPECTED    ENCOUNTER. 

And  while,  in  St.  Petersburg,  General  Selistoff 
was  uttering  those  words  to  his  trusted  associate 
— on  the  mountain-path  near  Beni-Mengella,  in 
Morocco,*  Mr.  Hay  ward  was  exclaiming  enthu- 
siastically to  Owen  Cazalet  (aged  twenty  or 
thfc.'eabout),    "It's    a    glorious  worfc,   my  boy, 


m 


1 


*?.- 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


and  it's  laid  wpon  you  in  due  course  by  your 
glorious  inheritance." 

"And  yet,"  Owen  murmured  musing,  "it's  a 
tdrrible  one,  too,  wiien  one  comes  to  think  of  it." 

Mr.  Hayward  eyeJ  him  hard  with  a  quick 
half-startled  air.  "Yes,  terrible,  certainly,"  he 
answered,  with  the  rapt  air  of  a  prophet,  "but 
inevitable,  for  all  that — a  stern  duty  imposed 
upon  you  by  your  birth  and  training.  Consider, 
Owen,  not  only  that  unhappy  country,  a  brute 
bulk,  bearing,  half  loth,  upon  her  mjrriad  shoul- 
ders the  burden  of  one  miserable  horror-haunted 
man — the  most  wretched  of  mankind — but  yor 
own  part  in  it  as  well,  your  own  calling  and 
election  to  avenge  and  assist  her.  Remember 
your  father,  sent  to  sicken  and  die  by  inches  in 
a  Siberian  mine;  remember  your  mother,  driven 
mad  in  the  streets  of  Wilnain  her  frantic  endeav- 
ors to  carry  you  and  her  daughter  in  safety  be- 
yond the  Russian  frontier.  All  these  things  the 
Romanoffs  have  done  to  you  and  yours  in  your 
very  own  nousehold .  "What  j  ustice  can  there  be  for 
them  except  in  the  angry  vengeance  of  their  out- 
raged serfs?  On  you  falls  that  honor.  You  are 
summoned' to  this  great  work.  You^ should  ac- 
cept it  with  pride,  with  gratitude,  with  aspira- 
tion." 

"So  I  do,"  Owen  answered,  a  feeling  of  shame 
breaking  over  him  like  a  wave  at  even  so  tran- 
sient an  expression  of  doubt  or  hesitancy.  "Trust 
me,  Mr.  Hayward,  I  will  be  ready  when  the 
time  comes,  Don't  fear  for  my  fidelity.  I  won't 
fail  you  in  the  struggle." 


>ERS. 


course  by  your 


musing,  ''it's  a 
3  to  think  of  it." 
d  with  a  quick 
e,  certainly,"  he 
a  prophet,  "but 
n  duty  imposed 
aing.  Consider, 
jountry,  a  brute 
er  myriad  shoul- 
3  horror-haunted 
nkind — but  yon 
iwn  calling  and 
aer.  Remember 
die  by  inches  in 
r  mother,  driven 
r  frantic  endeav- 
ter  in  safety  ba- 
these  things  the 
ad  yours  in  your 
;e  can  there  be  for 
mce  of  their  out- 
honor.     You  are 

You,  should  ac- 
ide,  with  aspira- 

feeling  of  shame 
at  even  so  tran- 
jsitancy.  "Trust 
ready  when  the 
fidelity.    I  won't 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


And  indeed,  that  manly  young  Englishman, 
for  Huch  in  all  essentials  he  was,  really  meant  it 
find  felt  it.  No«  for  nothing  had  Mr.  Hayward 
taken  charge  of  his  youth,  and  slowly,  by  tenta- 
tive degrees,  as  he  found  his  pupil's  mind  ripe 
for  change,  instilled  into  him  all  the  principles 
of  tlio  fiercest  Rus-Jun  nihilism.  Everything  had 
worked  with  that  cheery,  vigorous,  enthusiastic 
English  lad  in  the  direction  of  accepting  the  faith 
thus  forced  upon  him.  His  reverence  for  Mr. 
Hayward,  at  once  the  gentlest  and  most  power- 
ful mind  he  had  ever  known ;  his  hoiTor  at  the 
fate  of  his  own  father  an  I  mother;  his  native  love 
of  freedom,  of  individuality  of  adventure;  his 
sterling  English  honesty  of  purpose;  his  inherited 
Russian  fatalistic  tendency— all  led  him  alike  to 
embrace  with  fervor  the  strange  career  Mr,  Hay- 
ward sketched  out  for  his  future.  Nihilism  had 
become  to  him  a  veritable  religion.  He  had 
grown  up  to  it  from  his  cradle ;  he  had  heard  of 
it  only  from  the  lips  of  its  adherents;  he  had 
been  taught  to  regard  it  as  the  one  remaining 
resource  of  an  innocent  people  ground  down  to 
the  very  earth  by  an  intolerable  tyranny.  So  it 
came  to  pass  that  Owen  Cazalet,  who  from  one 
point  of  view,  as  his  friends  and  companions  saw 
him  at  Moor  Hill,  was  nothing  more  than  a  strong 
and  pleasing  athletic  young  Englishman,  was 
from  another  point  of  view,  by  Mr,  Hayward's 
side,  a  convinced  and  unflinching  Russian 
Nihilist. 

All  day  they  rode  on  across  the  volcanic  hills. 
Toward  evening  they  reached  the  dubious  village 


j&^'>*-;^,<JM«*"*'  s^  ^    'r-*** 


■>iJ'*jT8. 


9.1 


UXDER  SEALED  OBDERS. 


of  Beni-Mengella,  whose  mhabitaata  even  their 
tolerant  Moorish  servant  had  described,  to  them 
as  verj'  devout  and  fanatical  Mohammedans. 

At  the  outskirts  of  the  hamlet,  three  Berbers, 
clad  each  in  a  single  loose  white  robe,  not  much 
differing  from  a  night-shirt,  met  them  full  in  the 
path,  -  . 

"Peace  be  with  you,"  Mr.  Hay  ward  cried  out, 
accosting  them  in  the  usual  Moslem  formula. 

"Peace  be  with  all  true  believers,"  the  men 
answered,  in  a  surly  tone.  The  alteration  was 
significant.  It  meant  that  even  the  protection 
of  the  Serene  Shereefian  Umbrella  didn't  entitle 
such  open  rebels  against  the  will  of  Allah  to 
peace  in  that  village. 

"This  is  ominous,"  Mr.  Hay  ward  muttered 
quietly  to  Owen.  "We  may  have  trouble  here. 
These  men  refuse  to  give  us  peace  as  we  pass. 
That  always  means  in  Islam  more  or  less  chance 
of  danger." 

"So  much  the  better,"  Owen  thought  to  him- 
self, reddening  visibly  with  excitement. 

They  rode  on  in  silence  up  to  the  amine's 
house.  A  handsome  young  Moor  in  an  embroid- 
ered jacket  lounged  in  a  graceful  attitude  against 
the  richly-carved  door-post.  He  started  as  they 
approached,  and  then  burst  into  a  merry  laugh. 
But^the  laugh  was  lone's!  "Well,  this  is 
odd,"  the  stranger  cried  aloud  in  English,  in  a 
very  feminine  voice.  "You  said  you  were  going 
to  Duarzin.  You  changed  your  minds  suddenly. 
What  on  earth  brought  you  on  here?" 

"Well  —  yes;  we  changed  our  minds,"  Mr. 


ERS. 

kaut3  even  their 
escribed,  to  them 
hammedans. 
t,  three  Berbers, 
robe,  not  much 
them  full  in  the 

I'^ward  cried  out, 
,em  formula. 
I  vers,"  the  meu 
f)  alteration  was 
tt  the  protection 
la  didn't  entitle 
ill  of  Allah  to 

rward  muttered 
ve  trouble  here, 
aace  as  we  pass, 
re  or  less  chance 

thought  to  him- 

»meQt. 

to  the  amine's 

•  in  an  embroid- 

attitude  against 

)  started  as  they 

a  merry  laugh. 

"Well,   this  is 

a  English,  in  a 

you  were  going 

ninds  suddenly. 

are?" 

r  minds,"  Mr. 


■■,;*J 


UNDER  SEALED   ORDERS. 


95 


Haywaitl  answered,  with  a  slight  stammer,  look- 
ing decidedly  sheepish,  "we  altered  our  route 
\vhen  we  reached  the  fork  in  the  roads.  We 
hoard  ....  this  village  was  more  likely  to  afford 
us  something  reallj'^  good  in  the  way  of  advent- 
ure. But  you?  we've  fair  reason  to  question 
ycu  as  well.  Didn't  you  tell  us  this  morning 
you  meant  to  sleep  at  Taourirt?" 

loiie  laughed  once  more  that  merry  musical 
!augh  of  hers,  and  tossed  her  fluffy  hair  off  her 
oars  at  the  same  time  with  an  easy  movement  of 
her  head.  "What  fun!"  she  cried,  delighted  at 
the  absurd  contre  -  temps,  in  spite  of  herself. 
"Why,  I  came  here,  if  you  must  know,  on  pur- 
pose to  avoid  you.  Not  out  of  rudeness,  you  un- 
derstand; if  it  were  in  England,  now..  I'd  have 
been  most  pleased  to  accept  your  kind  compan- 
ionship. But,  you  see,  I've  come  out  hei'c  all 
this  way  to  do  this  journey  alone;  the  whole 
point  of  it  naturally  consists  in  my  riding 
through  Morocco  by  myself  in  native  clothes, 
find  perhaps  getting  killed  on  the  way — which 
would  be  awfully  romantic.  So,  of  course,  if 
I'd  allowed  you  to  come  on  with  me  or  to  follow 
me  up,  it'd  have  spoiled  the  game;  there'd  have 
been  no  riding  alone;  it'd  have  been  a  personally 
conducted  tour,  just  the  same  as  the  Cookies. 
Well,  that  made  me  turn'  off  at  a  tangent  to 
Beni-Mengella,  for  I  thought  perhaps  you  two 
men  might  be  afraid  to  let  me  go  on  by  myself, 
or  might  ^  ahead  to  Taourirt  on  purpose  to' 
make  sure  I  got  into  no  trouble.  And  that,  you 
must  see'  for  yourselves,  would  have  put  an  end 


r'iBllliiiimiiMii«iiiMm^^ 


R%* 


96 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


at  once  to  my  independence.  Tho  value  of  this 
experiment  cousista  entirely  in  my  going  through 
Moracco  alone,  on  my  own  hired  horse— and 
coming  out  alive  and  unhurt  at  the  other  end  of 
it." 

Mr.  Hayward  gazed  at  her  with  a  somewhat 
comical  ruefulness.  "It  is  unfortunate,"  he 
said  slowly.  "But  we  must  put  up  with  it  now. 
I'm  .sorry  we've  incommoded  you.  It's  too  late 
to  go  anywhere  else  at  this  hour,  I'm  afraid,  even 
if  there  were  anywhere  else  in  the  neighborhood 
to  go  to." 

"Oh,  well,  now  you're  here,"  lone  answered 
with  good-liumored  condescension,  "you  may  as 
well  stay,  for  after  all,  we  had  a  very  jolly  even- 
ing together  yesterday  at  Ain-Essa,  hadn't  we? 
Besides,  you  know,  it's  lucky  for  you  in  some 
ways,  I'm  here;  for  I  can  tell  you  these  are  just 
about  the  liveliest  and  most  aggressive  Moham- 
medans I've  met  anywhere  yet — they're  war  to 
the  knife  on  infidels,  and  if  you'd  come  among 
them  alone — without  a  lady  to  protect  you,  I 
mean — I  believe  they'd  have  murdered  you  as 
soon  as  look  at  you.  One  or  two  of  them  seemed 
half  inclined  at  first  to  doubt  about  the  propi-iety 
of  murdering  even  me;  but  they're  got  over  that 
now;  I've  made  things  all  square  witti  them. 
I've  repeated  enough  verses  from  the  Koran  to 
satisfy  the  amine  himself  as  to  my  perfect  ortho- 
doxy, and  I've  Mash-Allah'd  till  I'm  hoarse  at 
every  man,  woman  and  child  in  the  villa tje. 
Besides,  I've  made  up  to  the  moollah  of  the 
mosque.     If  I  say  to  him,  'These  are  friends  of 


,>^;iBrsU4.«ia«* 


■?.'■ 


>KRS. 

'ho  value  of  this 
iiygoiug  through 
lired  horse— and 
;  the  other  end  of 

rith  a  somewhat 
inf ortunate, "  he 
k  np  with  it  now. 
ou.  It's  too  hit-e 
,  I'm  afrrtid»  even 
he  neighhorhood 

"  lone  answered 
ou,  "you  may  as 

I  very  jolly  eveu- 
Essa,  hadn't  we? 
for  you  in  some 
ou  these  are  just 
gressive  Moham- 
; — they're  war  to 
I'd  come  among 
o  protect  you,  I 
nurdered  you  as 
1)  of  them  seemed 
out  the  propriety 
''re  got  over  that 
lare  with  them, 
m  the  Koran  to 
ny  parfeot  ortho- 

II  I'm  hoarse  at 
in  the  villa  tje. 

mo^llah  of  the 
je  are  friends  of 


UKDER  SEALED  OKDRKS. 


97 


mine,'  not  a  soul  in  the  place  will  dare  to  touch 
you." 

As  for  Owen,  in  spite  of  all  Mr.  Hayward's 
warnings,  he  didn't  pretend  to  conceal  from  him- 
self the  obvious  fact  that  he  was  very  glad  indeed 
to  come  again  upon  lone.  Not  wholly  from  the 
point  of  view  of  personal  liking  either;  he  had  a 
better  reason  than  that :  a  more  serious  reason. 
It  was  a  point  of  honor.  Their  last  few  words 
together  at  Ain-Essa,  where  they  had  spent  the 
previous  night,  had  loft  an  abiding  sense  of 
terror  on  his  inmost  soul.  Nobody  but  lonS 
Dracopoli  had  ever  suggested  in  his  hearing  the 
fatal  idea  tliat  Mr.  Hayward  was  a  Russian. 
And  he  hadn't  had  time  to  impress  upon  her  in 
full  (before  he  left)  the  profound  necessity  of 
keeping  that  idea  a  secret.  All  day  long  his  con- 
science had  been  pricking  him  for  that  unwilling 
disclosure.  Had  he  assenteil  too  openly?  Had 
he  betrayed  Mr.  Hayward's  trust  by  too  easy  an 
acquiescence?  He'd  been  longing  every  hour  of 
that  tedious  march  for  the  chance  of  seeing  lone 
alone  once  more,  to  beg  her  to  keep  silence ;  and 
now  that  chance  had  come.  He  was  profoundly 
grateful  for  it.  To  him,  the  suspense^  had  in 
many  ways  been  a  terrible  one. 

He  had  never  had  a  secret  from  Mr.  Hayward 
in  his  life  before.  That  feeling  of  itself  gave 
him  a  sense  of  guilt.  But  he  couldn't  pluck  up 
courage  to  make  a  clean  breast  of  it  either.  Mr. 
Hayward  wpuld  think  he  might  have  parried 
the  thrust  better.  To  say  the  truth,  he  w^s 
ashamed  to  lot  his  guardian  see  the  painful  fact 


98 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


that  (i  girl  had  f?ot  Iho  best  of  him  in  a  very  brief 
encounter. 

Mr.  Hnywanl  Htrolled  into  the  guest-houHo  to 
arrange  about  accommodation.  While  he  wiih 
gone  Owen  was  left  alone  at  the  door  for  one  min- 
ute with  lono.  There  whh  no  time  to  be  lost.  He 
must  seize  the  opportunity.  Such  a  chance  to 
speak  might  not  occur  again.  Mustering  up  all 
his  courage,  suddenly  (for  he  was  a  bashful  young 
man),  he  turned  to  her  at  once  and  said  in  a  very 
earnest  tone,  "Miss  Dracopoli,  I  thank  Heaven 
I've  met  you  again.  I  wanted— I  needed— I  re- 
quired one  word  more  with  you.  I  daren't  tell 
you  why — to  do  that  would  be  a  crime — but  I 
want  you  to  promise  me  as  faithfully  as  you  can 
you'll  never  mention  to  an^'body  your  suspicion 
that  Mr.  Hayward's  a  Russian.  It  might  be 
death  to  him,  if  it  wore  known,  and  death  to  me 
too.  I've  no  time  to  explain  more — he  mustn't 
come  out  and  see  me  talking  to  you  so.  But  for 
Heaven's  sfike — I  beg  of  you — promise  me,  do 
promise  me,  you'll  never  mention  the  matter  as 
long  as  you  live  to  anj^  one." 

He  spoke  with  concentrated  earnestness,  like 
one  who  really  means  most  profoundly  what  ho 
says.  lone  glanced  at  him  for  a  minute,  halj:  in 
doubt,  half  in  amusement,  with  these  big  laugh- 
ing eyes  of  hers.  She  didn't  quite  know  whether 
to  take  it  as  a  very  good  joke  or  not.  Most  things 
in  life  were  very  good  jokes  to  lone.  Then  she 
sobered  down  suddenly.  "Why  .  .  .  this  .  .  , 
is  ,  .  .  Nihilism  r'  she  said,  word  by  word,  m  a 
very    surprised    voice.      "No    wonder    you're 


RS. 


in  a  very  brief 


gUBHt-hoUHO  to 

While  he  wiih 
or  for  one  iiiiii- 
to  be  lost.  lie 
b  a  chance  to 
UBtering  up  al! 
.  bashful  young 

said  in  a  very 
thank  Heaven 
'.  needed — I  re- 

I  daren't  tell 
1  crime — but  I 
illy  as  you  can 
your  suspicion 

It  might  be 
ad  death  to  me 
re — he  mustn't 
►u  so.  But  for 
romise  me,  do 
i  the  matter  fis 

.rnestiiosa,  like 
undly  what  ho 
ninute,  halJ:  in 
icse  big  laugh- 
know  whether 
.     Most  things 
>n6.     Then  she 
...   this  .  .  . 
by  word,  jn  a 
yonder    you're 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


99 


alarmed.  Yes,  that  is  .  .  .  just .  .  .  Nihilism. 
But  you  needn't  he  afraid,  Owen  Cazalet.  I 
give  you  my  promise.  I'll  never  say  a  word  of 
it  as  long  as  I  live  to  any  one." 

She  spoke  now  as  seriously  as  he  had  sjioken 
himself.  She  said  it,  and  she  meant  it.  In  a 
moment,  the  laughing  girl  saw  the  full  magni- 
tude of  the  issue  at  stake,  and  for  once  wjis  so- 
bored.  Owen  glanced  at  her  timidly,  and  their 
eyes  met  again.  "Thank  you,"  ho  said,  very 
low,  in  a  very  timid  voice.  "Ten  thousand 
times,  thank  you." 

"But  what^s  his  Russian  name?"  lone  asked 
after  a  brief  pause,  half  coaxingly,  and  with  true 
feminine  curiosity.  "You  miyht  tell  me  that 
now.     You've  as  good  as  admitted  it." 

"Ah,  but  I  don't  know  it!"  Owen  answered, 
very  earnestly,  without  one  second's  hesitation. 
"I  haven't  heard  it  myself.  He's  never  once 
told  me." 

His  voice  had  a  ring  of  truth  in  it.  lone  felt 
sure  from  its  tone  he  meant  just  what  he  said. 
She  gazed  at  him  curiously,  once  more,  "Never 
a  word  of  it  to  any  one,"  she  repeated  with  sol- 
emn assurance,  wringing  his  hand  in  her  own. 
"I'll  cut  my  tongue  out  first.  For  I  see  you 
mean  it." 

At  that  moment,  as  she  spoke,  Mr.  Hay  ward's 
face  loomed  up  at  the  far  end  of  the  i^aesage  from 
the  courtyard  inside.  lone  saw  it  and  was  wise. 
She  let  Owen's  hand  drop  suddenly.  "And  such 
a  funny  old  Moor  with  a  green  turban  on  his 
head,"  she  went  on  quite  loud,  in  her  gayest  and 


^KS"' 


100 


VNDBK  HEALED  OBDERM 


most  natiirnl  voico,  rh  if  cnntinuing  a  convoraa- 
tion  ou  Home  porfw^tly  banal  point,  *'yoii  aovor 
8HW  in  your  life.  Ho  wuh  lat  and  diirk  and  h»ui 
u  mole  on  his  forehuad;  and  lio  callod  Allah  to 
witneas  at  every  second  word  he  was  letting  mo 
have  that  horHO  dirt  cheap  for  my  beautiful  eyes, 
at  rather  Iohs  than  half  its  value." 

"They're  dreadful  old  cheats, ' '  Owen  echoed  in 
the  same  voico.  But  he  felt  all  the  same  most 
horribly  ashamed  of  himself.  These  |)6tty  social 
deceits  sit  much  heavier  on  uh  moa  than  on  the 
lips  of  women  where  they  spring  spontaneous. 
And  it  cut  him  to  the  heart  to  think  he  was  em- 
ploying such  moan  feminine  wiles— against  Mr. 
Hayward. 

After  that  night,  ho  thought  to  himstjlf  bitter- 
ly, he'd  take  very  good  care  never  to  meet  lono 
Dracopoli  anywhere  again.  Though  to  be  sure 
she  was  the  nicest  girl  he'd  ever  mot  in  his  life, 
and  the  froest  in  the  truo  sense  of  all  he  admiretl 
in  freedom.  But  still — the  Cause — the  Cause! 
for  the  sake  of  the  Cause— he'd  avoid  her  like 
poison.     She  was  a  dangerous  woman. 

More  dangerous  even  than  he  knew;  for  of  all 
possible  links  to  bind  a  man  and  a  woman  to- 
gether for  life,  almost  in  spite  of  themselves, 
commr  nd  me  to  a  secret  shared  in  common. 


ung  a  convorea- 
int,  **yoii  aovor 
td  (hirk  and  htul 
culled  Allah  to 
was  letting  tni) 
r  beautiful  eyes, 

Owon  echoed  in 
the  8ume  moHt 
tieso  |)etty  social 
noa  than  on  the 
g  epontuneons. 
link  he  was  om- 
oa— against  Mr. 

•  him8i)lf  bitter- 
er to  meet  lono 
lugh  to  be  sure 

mot  in  his  life, 
'  all  he  admired 
180 — the  Cause! 

avoid  her  like 
)man. 

cnew ;  for  of  all 
ad  a  woman  to- 

of  themselves, 
1  common. 


VMDER  SUALBD  0RDBR8. 


CnAPTER  XI. 


MAN      P  K  O  1'  O  8  E  8  . 


That  night  at  Beni-MeugoUa  wns  Owen's  last 
n  eting  v/ith  lone  Dracopoli  in  Morocco.  And 
he  enjoyed  it  immensely.  All  through  the  even- 
ing, indee'l,  lone  wa.s  as  gay,  aw  communicative, 
as  frankly  confidential,  as  she  had  been  at  Ain- 
KriHa ;  C)  wen  even  fancied  she  was  possibly  plofvsod 
to  meet  him  agaiu;  but  if  so,  it  was  a  pleasure 
she  didn't  desire  to  let  pall  by  too  irequent  repe- 
tition. For  next  morning,  after  their  native 
breakfast  of  fried  cakes  and  cous-cous,  lone 
turned  one  merry  forefinger  uplifted  to  Mr. 
Hayward. 

"Now,  mind,"  she  said,  imperiously,  "this 
time — no  reconsiderations.  First  thoughts  are 
best.  Tell  me  your  tour,  and  I'll  tell  you  mine. 
Let's  hold  by  them  rigidly.  You  stick  to  yours, 
and  I'll  stick  to  my  own.  Then  we  won't  go 
running  up  against  one  another,  headforemost, 
like  the  people  in  a  farce — exit  Mr.  Hayward 
and  Owen  Cazalet  left,  enter  lone  Dracopoli 
R.  U.  E.,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  I  want  to 
be  able  to  say  I  rotle  through  Morocco  alone 
from  'Kiver  to  Kiver.'  I've  almost  done  it  now. 
Five  or  six  more  evenings  will  bring  me  down 
to  Mogador.     Look  here;  this  is  my  route,  as 


r:i 


i!> 


i 


103 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS 


far  as  one  can  trace  it  where  there  are  no  projier 
maps."  And  she  unfolded  Joseph  Thomson's 
rough  chart  of  the  Atlas  range  l^efore  him,  and 
indicated  as  well  ai^  possil)]e  with  one  plump 
white  finger  the  general  idea  of  her  future  stop- 
ping places. 

Mr.  Hayward  ac(iuiesced,  and  took  the  oppo- 
Bito  direction.  For  his  own  pfirt,  if  lone  was 
anxious  to  avoid  him,  he  was  ten  times  more 
anxious  to  avoid  lone. 

Of  the  two  toufH,  therefore,  the  independent 
young  lady's  was  finished  first.  Mr.  Hayward 
\ad  Owen  were  still  riding  slowly  up  steep  mule- 
paths  of  the  mountains  ir:  tbe  interior  long  after 
lone  had  changed  her  Turkish  trousers  and  her 
embroidered  Moorish  jacket  for  the  tailor-made 
robe  of  Regent  Street  and  Piccadilly,  As  to 
Owen's  later  feats  in  the  Atlas,  I  shall  say  no 
more  of  them  here.  The  untrodden  peaks  that 
he  climbed,  the  steep  cliffs  that  he  scaled,  the 
strange  insects  he  discovered,  the  rare  plants  he 
brougnt  home— how  he  withstood  the  natives  at 
the  shrine  of  Fidi  Salah  of  the  High  Peak — how 
he  insisted  on  photographing  the  Mosque  of  Abd- 
er-Prahmau  with  the  Two  Tombs  in- the  chief 
seat  of  Moslem  fanaticism  in  the  far  interior — 
are  they  not  all  written  with  appropriate  photo- 
gravures, in  Hayward 's  "Mountaineering  in 
Southern  Morocco?"  -Who  lists  may  read  them 
there.  For  the  purposes  of  this  present  history 
they  have  no  further  importance.  Enough  to 
say  that  at  the  end  of  two  weeks  Owen  Cazalet 
returned  by  the  Cunard  steamer  to  London,  a 


W^^Mr 


DER8. 


lere  are  no  proj-ter 
Dseph  Thomson's 
s  l^efore  him,  and 
with  one  plump 
f  her  future  stop- 

d  took  the  oppo- 

wirt,  if  lone  was 

ten  times  more 

the  independent 
;.  Mr.  Hayvvard 
'ly  up  steep  mule- 
nterior  long  after 

trousers  and  her 
•  the  tailor-made 
Lccadilly.  As  to 
,3,  I  shall  say  no 
adden  peaks  that 
at  he  scaled,  the 
the  rare  plants  he 
ad  the  natives  at 
High  Peak — how 
B  Mosque  of  Abd- 
mbs  in- the  chief 
the  far  interior — 
ppropriate  photo- 
>untaineering  in 
s  may  read  ihem 
is  present  history 
iice.  Enough  to 
ks  Owen  Cazalet 
ler  to  Lojidon,  a 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


103 


traveled  man,  and  ar  authority  on  the  vexed 
points  of  topography. 

Immediately  on  his  return,  Sacha  met  him  at 
Euston  with  important  news.  A  domestic  reVo- 
lution  had  occurred  at  Moor  Hill  during  his  short 
absence.  Sacha  met  him  at  once  with  unusual 
excitement  for  that  placid  nature.  "You  mustn't 
go  down  to  Auntie's  to-night,"  she  said,  as  soon 
as  he  stepped  on  to  the  platform.  "You  must 
come  to  my  lodgings  and  slsep.  I  want  to  have 
a  good  long  talk  with  you  as  soon  as  possible, 
Owen.     I've  such  lots  of  things  to  tell  you." 

"Youi-  lodgings!"  Owen  cried,  astonished. 
"You're  in  looms  up  in  town,  then?  Why, 
how's  that,  Sacha?" 

"Oh,  it's  a  long  story  to  tell,"  Sacha  answered, 
somewhat  flushed  hersfilf  out  of  her  wonted  com- 
posure. "You  see,  yovi're  six  weeks  in  arrears. 
We  haven't  been  able  to  write  to  you.  .  And 
ever  so  many  q'jeer  things  have  happened  in 
England  meanwhile.  In  the  first  place — that's 
the  beginning  of  it  all — I've  sold  my  Academy 
picture." 

"You  don't  mean  to  gay  so !"  Owen  exclaimed, 
overjoyed.  "But  not  at  your  own  price,  surely, 
Sacha.  You  know  you  told  us  it  was  quite  pro- 
hibitive yourself.  You  put  it  so  high  just  for 
the  dignity  of  art,  you  said." 

Sacha's  not  unbecoming  blush  mantled  deeper, 
with    conscious   success.     "Well,    not   exactly 
that,"  she  answered.     "I  knew  the  price  was 
prohibitive — or  at  least  I  believed  so ;  but  I  reck 
oned  its  value  in  accordance  with  what  any- 


^1 


iwSiSs-u.**; 


104 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


body  was  likely  to  give  for  it.  It  was  worth  a 
hundred  and  fifty;  so  I  asked  a  hundred  and 
fifty  for  it.  And  a  great  Manchester  buyer 
snapped  it  up  like  a  shot,  payiug  the  price  down 
without  a  word,  and  he  told  me  afterward  he'd 
got  it  on  the  ad  rice  of  a  famous  critic — he 
wouldn't  say  who,  but  I  think  I  know — and 
that  if  I'd  asked  for  two  hundred,  I  should  have 
had  it." 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  so!"  Owen  cried, 
pleased  and  proud.  "Well,  that's  splendid 
news.  Though  you  deserve  it,  Sacha,  you 
know.  I'm  sure  you  deserve  it.  I've  always 
said  myself  you'd  bo  a  very  great  artist  one  of 
tlieso  days — a  vt>ry,  very  great  artist — like  Mme. 
Lobrun  or  Rosa  Bonheur." 

Sacha  smiled  demurelyf.  It  was  no  small  joy 
to  her  to  get  such  praise  from  Owen — for  p\ui^  be- 
lieved in  her  brother.  "Well,  then,  dear,"  she 
went  on,  "you  see,  that  made  me  a  rich  woman 
outright  all  at  once;  for  he  gave  me  a  check  for 
the  whole  of  the  money  in  a  limip — a  hundred 
and  fifty  pounds  at  a  sijiglo  go,  and  all  earned 
by  myself  too.  Isn't  it  jfist  delightful? — Is  this 
your  bag?  Then  put  it  in  a  hansom,  ■and  come 
up  with  me  ta  mj'  raoms.  I'm  in  lodgings  close 
bj%  while  we  look  after  the  papering  and  fur- 
nishing in  Victoria  Street," 

"The  whatf'  Owen  cried,  throwing  his  port- 
m mteau  in  front  as  if  it  weighed  a  pound  or  t>vo 
and  taking  his  seat  by  her  side,  bewildered  ©nd 
astonished. 

"Oh,  I  forgot,  that's  part  of  the  history," 


IRS. 

It  was  worth  a 
I  hundred  and 
Qchester  buyer 
the  price  down 
afterward  he'd 
10U8  critic — he 
I  know— and 
,  I  should  have 

'  Owen  cried, 
liat's  splendid 
t,  Sacha,  you 
I've  always 
it  artist  one  of 
tist — like  Mme. 

s  no  small  joy 
en — for  phcj^  be- 
lien,  dear,"  she 
3  a  rich  woman 
me  a  check  for 
lip — a  hundred 
and  all  earned 
:htful?— Is  this 
Lsom,  ■end  come 
L  lodgings  close 
)ering  and  fur- 
owing  his  port- 
a  pound  or  \vro 
bewildered  and 


the  history,' 


^i:-  ?fe 


../  i 


UNDER  SEALED   ORDERS. 


106 


Sacha  answered,  running  on.  "Why,  the  fact 
of  it  is,  Owen,  being  a  rich  woman  now,  I've 
left  Moor  Hill  for  good,  and  Aunt  Julia,  too, 
and  determined  to  come  and  live  in  town  on 
my  own  scale  in  future," 

"And  give  up  the  studio!"  Owen  cried,  re- 
gretfully. 

"Oh,  I  shall  have  a  studio  in  our  flat,  of 
course,"  Sacha  replied,  with  a  slight  sigh. 
"Though  naturally  it  was  a  wrench— I  don't 
deny  it — to  give  up  the  dear  old  five-cornered 
nook  at  the  Red  Cottage.  But  I  felt  it  was  nec- 
essary. For  a  long  time  I've  realized  the  fact 
that  it  was  artistic  stagnation  to  live  down  where 
we  did— in  the  depths  of  Surrey.  In  art,  you 
know,  Owen,  one  wants  constant  encouragement, 
stimulation,  criticism.  One  ought  to  be  drop- 
ping perpetually  into  other  men's  rooms" — 
Sacha  said  it  as  naturally  as  if  she  were  a  man 
herself — "to  see  how  they're  getting  on,  how 
they're  developing  their  ideas,  and  whether 
they're  improving  them  or  spoiling  them  in  the 
course  of  the  painting.  One  ought  to  have 
other  men  dropping  perpetually  into  one's  own 
roonfs  t.)  look  on  in  return,  and  praising  one  or 
slanging  one  as  the  case  demands,  or  at  any  rate 
observing,  discussing,  suggesting,  modifying.  I 
felt  I  was  making  no  progress  at  all  in  my  art 
at  Moor  Hill.  I  stuck  just  where  I'd  got  to 
when  I  left  Paris.  So  when  this  great  stroke  of 
luck  came,  I  said  to  myself  at  once,  'Now,  I'm 
a  finished  painter  launched.  I  shall  be  rich  in 
future.     I  must  do  justice  to  my  art,  and  live  in 


"^t 


-I  Si,  15 


i 
1  'Y 


J^SSS. 


10(5 


UNDER   SKAliED   ORDEK8 


the  very  thick  of  the  artistic  world.  I  must 
move  in  the  Bwiui.  I  must  go  up  to  London.' 
And  that's  how  we  decided  on  this  flat  iu  Vic- 
toria Street,  wliich  we're  now  engaged  in  fur- 
nishing and  decorating." 

"But  what  does  Aunt  Julia  say?"  Owen  ex 
claimed,  a  little  taken  aback  by  so  much  unex- 
pected precipitancy. 

Sacha  suppressed  a  slight  smile.  "Dear  old 
Aunt  Julia!"  she  said,  with  a  faint  undercur- 
rent of  amusement  in  her  earnest  voice.  "Well, 
you  know  just  what  she'd  say,  Owen!  Aunt 
Julia  can  never  understand  us  modern  gii'ls. 
She  thinks  the  world's  turned  topsy-turvy  in  a 
lump,  and  that  everything  womanly's  gone  and 
vanished  clean  out  of  it.  She  puts  it  all  down, 
though,  to  dear  mother's  blood.  Aurora,  sho 
says,  was  al'rays  flighty.  And  no  doubt  she's 
right,  too,  in  her  way.  It's  from  mother,  I  ex- 
pect, Owen,  that  I  inherit  the  ai  listic  tendency, 
and  many  other  things  in  my  nature.  In  her,  it 
came  out  in  the  form  of  music ;  in  me,  it  comes 
out  iu  the  form  of  painting.  But  it's  the  same 
impulse  at  bottom,  you  know,  whichevey  turn 
it  takes.  There's  nothing  of  the  sor*  in  Aunt 
Julia,  certainly." 

"They  must  have  been  singularly  different  iu 
type,  no  doubt,"  Owen  mused  with  a  sigh.  "Of 
course,  I  can't  remember  poor  mother  myself, 
Sacha;  but  from  all  you've  told  me,  all  I've 
heard  from  Mr.  Hay  ward,  she  must  have  been 
the  opposite  pole  from  poor  dear  Aunt  Julia," 

"Well,  they  were  only  half-sisters,  you  see," 


■a-fi'-yimtiti- 


SKS. 


VNDBir'sEALED  ORDERS. 


107 


svorld,  I  must 
up  to  London.' 
this  flat  in  Vis- 
ngaged  in  fur- 

iy?"  Owen  ex- 
80  much  nnex- 

ile.  "Dear  old 
faint  undercur- 
voice.  "Well, 
Owen  I  Aunt 
modern  girls, 
ipsy-turvy  in  a 
nly's  gone  and 
its  it  all  down, 
.  Aurora,  she 
no  doubt  she's 
n  mother,  I  ex- 
listic  tendency, 
ure.  In  her,  it 
in  me,  it  comes 
ut  it's  the  same 
ivhichevey  turn 
e  8or*  in  Aunt 

irly  different  in 
;h  a  sigh.  "Of 
mother  myself, 
d  me,  all  I've 
nust  have  been 
Aunt  Julia," 
iters,  you  see," 


Sacha  answered,  in  an  apologetic  tone.  "And 
I  fancy  our  grandmother  must  have  been  a  very 
different  person,  indeed,  from  the  first  Mrs.  Caza- 
let.  Certainly,  you  can't  imagine  Aunt  Julia 
going  off  on  her  own  account  as  a  public  singer 
to  Berlin  and  Vienna,  or  marrying  a  Russian 
like  poor  papa,  or  trying  to  escape  with  us  under 
a  feigned  name,  or,  in  '  ict,  doing  anything  else 
that  wasn't  perfectly  Britisli  and  ordinary  and 
commonpluce  and  uninteresting." 

"Aunt  Julia  was  born  to  be  a  decorous  En- 
glish old  maid,"  Owen  interposed,  laughing. 
"She'd  have  missed  her  vocation  in  life  if  any- 
body'd  happened  to  propose  to  her  and  marry 
her." 

"Yes,  and  when  she  heard  we  were  going  to 
take  a  flat  in  town  tngether — three  girls  alone — 
and  have  latchkeys  of  our  own  and  nobody  to 
chaperon  us — why,  I  thought,  poor  dear  thing, 
she'd  hav<^  fainted  on  the  spot.  But  what  horri- 
fied her  most  was  our  grandest,idea  of  all ;  that 
we're  to  b.9  independent  and  self-supporting — self- 
suflicient,  in  fact,  or  at  least  self-sufficing.  We 
mean  to  do  our  own  work,  and  to  keep  no 
servants." 

"That's  good!"  Owen  exclaimed,  seized  at 
once  with  the  idea,  in  the  true  vein  of  the  fam- 
ily. "That's  splendid,  I  declare.  So  advanced! 
so  socialistic!  Only  I  say,  Sacha,  you'll  want 
some  one  to  do  the  heavy  work  of  the  house.  I 
expect  I'll  have  to  come  up  to  town  as  well  and 
live  with  yon  as  hall  porter." 

"I  don't  think  so,"  Sacha  answered,  gating 


it,/ 


'If  J  •> 


•  I  'J 


m 


If<f 


108 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


admiringly  as  always  at  that  fresh  strong  frame 
of  his.  "I'm  pretty  able-bodied  myself,  you 
know.  The  Selistdff's  were  always  a  race  of 
giants,  Mr.  Hay  ward  says;  and  t^  ugh  Black- 
bird's a  tiny  feeble  wee  thing— you've  heard 
me  speak  of  Blackbird —Hope  Braithwaitt?,  you 
know,  that  poor  little  girl  with  a  soul  and  no- 
body who  composes  such  sweet  songs — though 
Blackbird's  not  up  to  much,  lone  Dracopoli's 
quite  strong  enough,  I'm  sure,  to  do  the  work  of 
a  household." 

"lone  Dracopoli!"  Owen  cried,  in  an  almost 
ironical  agony  of  mingled  surprise  and  despair. 
"You  don't  mean  to  say  lone  Dracopoli's  going 
to  live  with  you?" 

"Oh,  didn't  I  tell  you  that  at  first?"  Sacha  ex- 
clpjmed,  suddenly  remembering  herself.  "I  sup- 
pose, having  heard  from  her  a  lively  account  of 
how  she  met  you  in  her  Turkish  costunw^  on  top 
of  some  high  mountain  in  Morrcco  somewhere,  I 
forgot  you  hadrft  learned  all  about  it  from  her- 
self already.  She  was  quite  full  of  you  when 
she  returned.  She  says  you're  so  strong,  and  so 
handsome,  and  so  interesting.  But  of  course  all 
this  has  turned  up  since  then.  Well,  let  me  see; 
this  is  just  how  it  happened.  After  I  sold  my 
picture,  and  came  up  to  town,  to  these  lodgings 
where  I'm  taking  you  now,  I  proposed  to  Black- 
bird, who's  miserable  at  home — all  her  people 
are  Philistines — that  she  should  come  and  take 
rooms  with  me  as  a  social  experiment,  and  we 
should  run  a  small  flat  on  mutual  terms  together. 
So  while  we  were  still  oti  the  hunt,  looking  at 


am. 


.'""W**«»«'K'«v^'S^:^^'-«K»»*W*«niPt  '■ 


m 


RS. 

h.  strong  frame 
I  myself,  you 
ays  a  race  of 
fi  ugh  Black- 
-you've  heard 
aithwaite,  you 
a  soul  and  no- 
songs — though 
ne  Dracopoli's 
do  the  work  of 

,  in  an  almost 
;e  and  despair, 
icopoli's  going 

it?"  Sachaex- 
jrself.  "I  sup- 
rely  account  of 
;ostunw>  on  top 
)  somewhere,  I 
ut  it  from  her- 
[  of  you  wlien 
strong,  and  so 
it  of  course  all 
ell,  let  me  see; 
iter  I  sold  my 
these  lodgings 
)0sed  to  Black - 
all  her  people 
3ome  and  tako 
iment,  and  we 
i^rms  together, 
int,  looking  at 


; 


rNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


109 


1  rtoms  and  rooms,  lone  Dracopoli  turned  up  in 
town,  Turkish  trousers  and  all,  and  was  taken 
up  of  course  as  a  nine  days'  wonder.  The  Old 
Girls  Club  at  College  gave  her  a  breakfast  one 
(lay  which  I  attended,  naturally;  and  there  she 
heard  of  my  plan,  and  fell  in  with  it  heart  and 
soul.  She  wanted  to  be  one  of  us.  She  says 
tliere  were  always  three  Graces,  so  she  must  be 
number  three;  and  as  for  going  without  a  serv- 
ant, that  was  tlie  dream  of  her  existence.  We 
two  others  were  naturally  glad  enough  to  get 
}ier,  for  we'd  been  hunting  in  vain  for  a  flat 
s!nall  enough  and  cheap  enough  to  suit  our 
purses,  and  lone  has  money,  so  that  by  club- 
bing together,  we  can  do  much  better.  Well, 
the  end  of  it  all  was,  we've  taken  a  dear  little 
l)lace  behind  Victoria  Street,  Westminster ;  and 
in  a  week  from  to-day  we  mean  to  move  into 
it." 

Owen's  heart  beat  fast.  This  was  a  terrible 
Di'deal.  He'd  fully  made  up  his  mind  never  to 
see  lone  as  loug  as  he  liver!  again.  But  he 
couldn't  promise  to  give  up  paying  visits  to 
Sacha.  There  was  nobody  so  near  him  or  so 
sympathetic  as  she  was.  And  though  she  didn't 
know  all  his  relations  with  Mr.  Hay  ward,  in- 
cluding the  reasons  why  he  was  to  go  into  the 
diplomatic  service,  she  was  the  only  living  soul 
on  earth,  besides  his  fjuardian,  with  whom  he 
could  alludo  in  any  way  to  the  secret  of  his  birth, 
or  his  Russian  origin.  To  everybody  else  he  was 
just  Miss  Cazalet's  nephew^  the  son  of  that  half- 
eister  who  married  somewhere  abroad,  and  whose 


:fn 


I 


iS>- 


110 


UNDER  SEALED  0HDBR8. 


husband  was  supposed  to  have  diod  in  disgrace 
in  Canada  or  Australia. 

For  tho  saLe  of  the  Cause,  he  dreaded  the  pros- 
pect of  seeing  much  more  of  lone. 


CHAPTER  XH. 


PINE   ART. 


At  the  Academy,  those  same  days,  Lady  Beau- 
mont one  afternoon  strolled  vacantly  through  tho 
rooms,  doing  the  honors  of  English  art  to  ber 
friend,  Madame  Mireff. 

"Yes,  Sir  Frederick's  are  charming,"  she  said, 
languidly, deig^niug  a  glance  as  she  passed  through 
thejaristocratic  outrage;  "but,  then,  Sir  Frederick, 
of  course,  Is  always  charming.  Besides,"  with 
a  sigh  of  relief,  "I  saw  them  all  in  his  studio  bo- 
fore  they  came  here,  you  know,"  which  absolved 
her  accordingly  from  the  disagreeable  necessity 
of  pretending  to  look  at  them  now.  "So  ex- 
quisitely graceful,  aren't  they?  Such  refine- 
ment! Such  feeling!  .  .  .  Well,  she.  answered 
me  back  to  my  face,  my  dear:  *As  good  as  you 
are,  my  lady' :  those  were  her  very  words,  I  as- 
sure you:  'as  good  as  you  are,  my  lady.'  So 
after  that,  of  course,  it  was  quite  impossible  for 
me  to  dream  of  keepinp-  hev  on  one  minute  longer. 
My  husband  went  in  and  packed  her  off  imme- 
diately. Sir  Arthur's  not  a  violent  man — for  a 
soldier,  that  -is  to  say — and  since  he  went  into 


KRSa 

liod  in  disgrace 
readed  the  proB- 


ays,  Lady  Beau- 
atly  through  tho 
glish  art  to  her 

tning,"  she  said, 
e  passed  througli 
D,  Sir  Frederick, 

Besides,"  with 
in  his  studio  bo- 
which  absolved 
Beablo  necessity 
now.  "So  ex- 
*  Such  refine- 
l,  she.  answered 
ks  good  as  you 
3ry  words,  I  as- 

my  lady. '  So 
3  impossible  for 
)  minute  longer, 
d  her  off  imme- 
ent  man — for  a 
oe  he  went  into 


Parliament,  between  you  and  me,  his  temper's 
l)Ben  like  a  lamb  compared  to  what  it  used  to  be 
whefi  we  were  out  in  India;  but  that  morning, 
I'll  admit,  he  flared  up  like  a  haycoc'r.  He 
sent  hor  packing  at  on(,'e,  passage  I  id,  by  the 
fir/  train  to  Calais.  So  there  I  was,  my  dear.  .  . 
Yos,  a  swoot  thing,  retiUy ;  he  does  those  Venetian 
Hc'ones  so  well:  a  very  pleasant  man,  too:  he 
dined  with  us  on  Saturday.  .  .  So  there  I  was  at 
Grindelwald,  left  high  and  dry  without  a  maid 
to  my  name,  and  as  I'm  about  as  incapable  as  a 
babe  unborn  of  dressing  ray  own  hair  myself,  I 
had  to  go  over  to  Interlaken  next  'morning  early 
to  get  it  done  up  by  a  coiffeur ;  and  then,  if  you 
can  believe  me,  I  was  forced  to  sleep  in  it  for 
three  nights  at  a  stretch  without  taking  it  down 
— wasn't  it  ridiculous,  fignrez  voxts — just  like  a 
South  Sea  Islander  with  a  neck  prop — till  Arthur 
liad  got  out  a  new  maid  for  me  by  telegraph  from 
Tiondon." 

Madame  Miroff  smiled. 

"What  a  slavery,"  she  said,  quietly,  "to  be  so 
dependent  on  a  maid  that  one  can't  even  go  to 
bed  in  comfort  without  her!  It  reminds  me  of 
those  slave  -  making  ants  Professor  Sergueyeff 
told  mo  about  in  Petersburg  the  other  day,  which 
can't  even  feed  themselves  unless  there's  a  slave 
ant>  by  their  sides  to  put  the  food  into  their 
mouths,  but  die  of  starvation  in  the  midst  of 
plenty." 

Lady  Beaumont  stifled  a  yawn. 

"Arthur  says  in  a  hundred  years  there'll  be  no 
servants  at  all,"  she  drawled  out  in  her  weary 


If,'.*' 


118 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


way.  "Tho  girls  nnd  tho  men  of  the  lower  orders 
will  ftU  bo  too  Hno  and  too  \.-cl;-«riucatt.'l  to  wjiit 
upon  v;h.  But  1  tell  liim,  thiink  Hoavoiii  they'll 
last  inif  time,  luid  tbat's  enough  (or  mo.  / 
couldn't   do  without.      After  us,   tho   deluge." 

"That's  a  lumutiful  thing  over  there,"  Mad- 
ame Mireff  put  in,  interrupting  her.  "No,  not 
the  little  girl  with  tho  drum — that's  not  my  taste 
at  all— I'm  sick  of  your  English  little  girls  in 
neat  tight  black  stockings.  Tho  one  beside  it,  I 
mean;  H:t7 ;  Greek  maidens  playing  ball.  It's  so 
free  and  graceful — so  much  life  and  movement 
in  it." 

"It  is  pretty,"  Lady  Beaumont  assented,  put- 
ting up  her  quizzing-glass  onco  more,  with  as 
much  show  of  interest  as  she  could  muster  up  in 
a  mere  painted  picture.  "I  forgot  who  it's  by, 
though.  But  I've  seen  it  before,  I'm  sure.  It 
must  have  been  in  one  of  the  studios,  I  expect, 
on  Show  Sunday." 

Madame  Mireff  hunted  it  up  in  tho  catalogue 
— a  rare  honor  at  her  hands,  for  her  taste  was 
fastidious. 

"Aspasia's  Schooldays,"  she  read  out,  "Alex- 
andra M.  Cazalet." 

"Oh,  dear,  yes,  to  be  sure,"  Lady  Beaumont 
cried,  with  a  sudden  flash  of  reminiscence. 
"How  stupid  of  me  to  forget!  I  ought  to  have 
remembered  it.  I'm  glad  Arthur  wasn't  hero; 
he'd  be  vexed  at  my  having  forgotten.  A  coun- 
ty member's  wife,  he  says,  should  make  a  point 
of  remembering  everybody  and  everything  in  tho 
whole  division.;^ And  I  saw  it  till  I  was  sick  of 


CRfl. 


UNDRR   HBALKB   ORDBR8. 


liS 


the  lower  orders 
luoatt.'!  to  ,vjiit 
Hoiivon,  they'll 
gh  for  mo.  / 
,  the  deluge." 
p  there,"  Mad- 
her.  "No,  not 
t's  not  my  taste 
h  little  girls  in 
one  beside  it,  I 
ig  Irnll.  It's  80 
and  movement 

t  assented,  put- 
more,  with  as 
Id  muster  up  in 
fot  who  it's  by, 
),  I'm  sure.  It 
idios,  I  expect, 

II  the  catalogue 
r  her  tai^te  was 

3ad  out,  "Alex- 

jady  Beaumont 
reminiscence. 
[  ought  to  have 
ir  wasn't  hero; 
)tten.  A  coun- 
l  make  a  point 
'•ery  thin  gin  the 

II I  was  sick  of 


it,  too,  in  her  studio  at  Moor  Hill. — So  it  Is,  I 
doc"., ire!     S;ichu  Oazalot's  picture!" 

Madame  MireflP  caught  at  the  name  with  true 
Slavonic  ijuickness. 

"Sacha, "  she  rop<>ated,  "Sacha  Cazalet !  Why, 
Hhe  must  Ix)  partly  Hussiaii.  That's  a  Russian 
word!  Sacha — it'n  short  for  Alexandra,  too — 
and  her  name's  Alexandra.  Hor  mother  must 
Ik!  a  Slav.  .  .  .  And  that's  no  doubt  why  I 
like  her  work  so  well.  There's  Russian  feeling 
throughout,  in  both  subject  and  execution;  such 
intensity,  such  fervor,  such  self-restraint,  such 
deep  realism."  ' 

"She  lives  down  our  way,"  Lady  Beaumont 
remarked,  with  a  casual  glance  at  the  intonHity. 
"Slie's  a  queer,  reserved  girl,  self-restrained,  as 
you  say;  a  little  too  much  so,  perhaps,  for  mo; 
and  she  has  such  a  dreadful  old  woman  of  an 
aunt— :»ld  maid — you  know  the  tyi)e;  shedding 
tracts  as  she  goes;  red  flannel;  Dorcas  meetings. 
Oh,  quite  too  dreadful  for  anything  in  her  black 
silk  dress  and  her  appalling  black  jnet,  with 
a  bunch  of  mauve  flowers  in  it.  But  there's  no 
avoiding  her.  In  the  country,  you  see,  a  Mem- 
ber of  Parliament's  wife  must  know  the  most 
ghastly  people — you  can't  imagine  what  a  trial 
it  is.  A  smile  and  a  kind  inquiry — so— after 
rheumatics  or  babies — for  every  old  frump  or  old 
bore  you  meet  on  the  footpath.  Ugh !  it's  just 
too  sickening.  .  .  .  But  I  never  heard  anybody 
say  Sacha  Cazalet  was  a  Russian." 

"What's  the  aunt's  name?"  Madame  Mireff 
asked,  suddenly,  for  no  reason  in  particular,  ex- 


114 


UNDKH  HBALBD  ORDRRU. 


oejit  that  'twHH  part  of  her  miHsion  to  foilow  up 
ovyry  clow  iilunit  overy  known  or  miHpwteil  Jius- 
sitin  family  in  Knglund. 

"Why,  Cjizjilot,  of  courne,"  Liuly  Beaumont 
answonnl  ut  once,  without  protending  to  any 
grunt  intiTcHt  oither  in  poison  or  pictures. 
"Thoy'ro  all  threo  of  them  C'azalots." 

"Tlum  they're  hor  brother's  children,  who 
Gvor  they  are,"  madamo  went  on,  rai)idly,  "thirt 
MiHH  Sacha  and  tho  rest;  or  else,  of  courHo, 
their  uamoH  couldn't  bo  ("azalet,  too.  Who 
waH  thoir  mother,  I  wondory" 

Lady  Boaumont  paused  and  stood  still.  It 
was  too  much  effort  for  her  to  walk  and  think 
at  tho  same  time. 

"Well,  I  never  thought  of  that  before,"  she 
said,  looking  puzzlod  for  a  moment.  "You  boo, 
they're  not  in  our  sot,  exactly;  wo  only  know 
them  OS  we're  obliged  to  know  everybody  in  the 
division— on  political  grounds,  that  is  to  say — 
garden-party  once  a  year  —  hardly  mure  than 
wliat  you  might  call  a  bowing  acquaintance. 
But  it's  odd  her  name's  Cazalet,  too,  now  you 
suggest  it;  for  I've  always  understood  Sacha's 
motlior  and  the  old  lady  were  halt-cisters,   or 

something Perhaps  she  married  a  cousin, 

though But,  at  any  rate,  they're  Caza- 

lets,  this  girl  and  her  brother  Owen,  a  great 
giant  of  a  fellow  who  gets  prizes  at  sports  for 
jumping  and  running." 

"And  yet  they  call  her  Sacha,"  madame  rumi- 
nated, undeterred.  "Well,  that's  certainly  odd; 
for  Sacha's  real  Russian.     Though,  to  bo  sure, 


;y  M 


>ICIM. 


UNDER   HRALBD   ORPBRS. 


115 


Hion  to  follow  up 
>r  HUHpecteil  lius- 

Liuly  Betminont 
Dtuiuling  tu  any 
ion  or  piutureB. 
iiziilots." 
I  childron,  w1k> 
n,  rapidly,  "thw 

else,  of  courw), 
iiilot,    too.     Who 

,  Btood  still.  It 
)  whIIc  uad  think 

hut  before,"  sho 
lent.  "You  see, 
';  wo  only  know 
everybody  in  the 

that  is  to  say — 
irdly  more  than 
g  acquainttmco. 
et,  too,  now  you 
iderstood  Suchu'b 
)  half.-&isters,  or 
married  a  cousin, 
©,  they're  Caza- 

Owon,  a  great 
zes  at  sports  for 

"  madame  rumi- 
;'s  certainly  odd ; 
>ugh,  to  bo  Bure, 


ill  Kngbmd  nowadayH  you  call  any  girl  anything. 
No  huiguHgo  is  Mafo  from  you.     I've  met  a  dozen 

OlgHH  at  Iniiht  Hint'o  I  came  to  [^ondon 

And  how  old'rt  tiiin  Siicha  Cazalet?  She  paintH 
beautifully,  anyhow. " 

"About  tweutyfivo  or  twenty-six,  J  should 
wty,"  Lady  Beaumont  anHwornd  at  a  guess. 
"And  Owen  must  be  twenty  or  a  littlo  bit  over. 
Lot  me  see;  ho  was  a  baby  in  arms  when  he  first 
came  to  Moor  Hill,  the  year  our  Algy  was  born. 
Algy'w  twenty  in  August.  The  little  girl  was 
four  or  five  then;  and  that's  just  twenty  years 
ago." 

Madame  Mireff  all  the  while  was  examining 
the  picture  closely. 

"Very  Slavonic,"  she  naid  at  la«t,  drawing 
back  and  posing  in  front  to  take  it  all  in;  "very 

Slavonic,  certainly Pure  Verestchagin, 

Ihat  girl  there, — And  you  say  they  came  to  Moor 
Hill  twenty  years  ago  now.  How? — from  where? 
— with  whom? — waa  their  mother  with  thorn?" 

She  spnko  so  sharply  and  inquisitively,  in  spite 
of  her  soft  rovi.'.dness  of  face  and  form,  that  Lady 
Beaumont,  with  her  society  languor,  was  half 
aimi)yed  at  such  earnestness.  ^ 

"I  think  it  viras  from  Canada,"  the  English 
wouuui  answered,  with  still  more  evident  uncon- 
cern, as  if  the  subject  bored  her.  "But  I  never 
asked  the  old  aunt  body  nuich  about  it.  I  had 
no  interest  in  the  children;  they  were  nothing  to 
mo.  I  believe  their  mother  was  dead,  and  some* 
thing  or  other  unmentionable  had  happened  to 
their  father.     But  Miss  Cazalet  was  never  very 


•ai'. 


W 


116 


UKDER  SEALBD  ORDERS. 


1 

believe      I 


communiccitive  on  the  point,  because  I 
the  Bister  had  gone  and  disgraced  them  in  some 
way — went  ou  the  stage,  I  fancy  I've  heard — or, 
at  any  rate,  didn't  come  up  to  the  district  visit- 
ing standard  of  social  conduct.  I  never  heard 
the  rights  or  the  wrongs  of  the  story  myself. 
Why  should  I,  indeed?  They  were  not  in  our 
society."    ■•,.';.    '...vl.'v.Z     ^-      -'. 

"Have  they  any  friends — the  boy  and  girl,  1 
mean?"  Madame  Mireff  asked  once  more,  with 
the  same  evident  eagerness.  "Who  are  the 
father's  people?  Don't  they  over  come  across 
to  see  these  two  children — from  Canada  or  any- 
where?" 

Lady  Beaumont  reflected. 

"I  don't  think  so, "  she  answered,  after  a  pause. 
"There's  a  guardian  of  the  boy's,  to  be  sure— or 
somebody  they  choose  to  call  a  guardian.  But 
he  comes  very  seldom.  I  saw  him  there  this 
summer,  though.  A  very  odd  man,  with  the 
manners  of  a  prince,  who's  been  everywhere  in 
the  world,  and  knows  absolutely  everything." 

"A  foreigner?"  madame  asked,  adopting  the 
English  phrase  and  applying  it  with  tentative 
caution  to  her  own  countrjnnen. 

"Oh,  dear  no,  ah  Englishman.  At  least,  so 
they  said ;  his  name's  Hayward,  anyhow,  and 
that's  English  enough  for  anybody,  I  should 
think.  He's  nobody  in  particular,  either — just 
a  photographer  in  Bond  Street.  He  calls  him- 
self Mortimer  &  Co.  in  business." 

Madame  made  a  mental  note  of  the  name  at 
onoG. 


JtS-V  t,«ye»*^-^>  ^r<f^^'^*'W^0^^^% 


DER8. 

because  I  believe 
ced  them  in  some 
!y  I've  heard — or, 
the  district  visit- 
it.  I  never  hoard 
the  story  myself, 
were  not  in  our 

e  boy  and  girl,  I 
.  once  more,  with 
"Who  are  the 
3ver  come  across 
1  Canada  or  any- 


red,  after  a  pause. 
•'s,  to  be  sure— or 
I  guardian.  But 
f  him  there  this 
i  man,  with  the 
an  everywhere  in 
y  everything." 
:ed,  adopting  the 
it  with  tentative 

m.  At  least,  so 
•d,  anyhow,  and 
ybody,  I  should 
iilar,  either — just 
t.     He  calls  him- 

3." 

i  of  the  name  sA 


:/'-• 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDBUS 


117 


"I'll  go  there  and  get  photographed,"  ohe  said. 
*'T  can  ask  about  them  then.  Besides,  I'm  in 
want  of  a  new  portrait  just  now.  I  haven't  got 
any  in  stock.  Lord  Caistor  asked  me  to  give 
him  one  yesterday."  And  she  subsided  into  a 
seat,  holding  that  plump  hand  up  to  her  round 
face  coquettishly. 

"They  say  he's  quite  a  conquest  of  yours," 
Lady  Beaumont  suggested,  with  a  mischievous 
look. 

"Oh,  my  dear,  they'd  say  anything. .  Why, 
they  say  I'm  an  emissary  of  the  Czar's,  and  an 
imaccredited  agent,  and  a  spy,  and  an  adven- 
turess, and  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  what  else. 
They'll  be  saying  I'pi  a  Nihilist  next,  or  a  prin- 
cftss,  or  a  pretender.  The  fact  of  it  is,  a  Russian 
lady  can't  show  the  faintest  patriotic  pride  or  in- 
terest in  her  country  in  England  without  all  the 
newspapers  making  their  minds  up  at  ouce  she's 
a  creature  of  the  Government."  And  madamo 
crossed  one  white  hand  resignedly  over  the  other. 

"That's  a  lovely  bracelet,  Olga!"  Lady  Beau- 
mont cried,  turning  with  delight  at  last  to  a 
more  congenial  topic. 

Madiime  unclasped  it  and  handed  it  to  her. 

"Yes,  it's  prettj',"  she  answered;  "and,  what 
I  prize  still  more,  it's  through  and  through  Rus- 
sian. The  gold's  from  the  Ural  mines  on  Gen- 
eral Selistoff's  property.  The  sapphires  are 
Siberian  from  my  uncle's  government.  The 
workmanship's  dona  by  a  famous  jeweler  in 
Moscow,  The  inscription's  in  old  Slavonic — 
our  sacred  Russian  tongue.     And  the  bracelet 


't^i^'^:-smf^s«XiiAS^M' 


m 


■-,'t:^ 


118 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


itself  was  given  me  by  our  dear  good  empress.— 
Hay  ward — no,  Mortimer  &  Co.,  photographer, 
Bond  Street.  I  won't  forget  the  name. — Here's 
her  miniature  in  this  locket.  She  was  a  darling, 
our  empress." 

"  You  belonged  to  her  household  once,  I  think, " 
■Lady  Beaumont  murmured.  Tho  remotest  fringe 
of  royalty  interested  the  county  member's  wife 
profoundly. 

"I  belonged  to  her  household  once;  yes.  I 
was  a  lady-in-waiting.  The  imperial  family 
has  always  been  pleased  to  be  kind  to  the  Mireffs. 
Prince  Ruric  Brassoff  was  there,  too,  in  my  time. 
— Well,  it's  a  beautiful  picture,  Sacha  Cazalet's. 
Let's  go  away  now,  Anaatasia.  After  that  dreamy 
Russian  vision,  I  don't  carS  to  look  any  more  at 
your  stodgy  English  middle-class  portraits." 


CHAPTER  XIIL 

THE   HIGHER   EDUCATION   OF   WOMEN. 

A  WEEK  later,  Owen  ran  up  by  morning  train 
from  M(X)r  Hill,  to  see  Sacha  and  her  friends  in- 
stalled at  their  ease  in  their  own  new  flat  a  little 
behind  Victoria  Street. 

The  flat  itself,  to  be  sure,  with  most  of  its  in- 
organic contents,  he  had  fully  inspected  already. 
It  was  daintilj'  pretty  in  its  modern — its  very 
modem  way,  with  high  white  frieze  of  lincrusta, 
and  delicate  yellow  wall-paper;  and  Sacha  had 
expended  upon  it  with  loving  interest  all  the 


BRS 


Bfcod  empress.— 
,  photographer, 
>  name. — Here's 
le  was  a  darling, 

I  once,  I  think," 

)  remotest  fringe 

member's  wife 

I  once;  yes.  I 
mperial  family 
d  to  the  Mireffs. 
too,  in  my  time. 
3acha  Cazalet's. 
f  ter  that  dreamy 
>ok  any  more  at 
!  portraits." 


IF   WOMEN. 

y  morning  train 
I  her  friends  in- 
new  flat  a  little 

1  most  of  its  in- 
spected already, 
odern — its  very 
eze  of  lincrusta, 
and  Bacha  had 
interest  all  the 


UNDER  SEALED   ORDERS. 


tjiste  and  care  of  an  authority  on  decoration. 
But  this  morning  he  came  rather,  with  some- 
\v-hat  trembling  heart,  to  view  "the  elective  fam- 
ily," as  Sacha  called  it — "the  miniature  phalan- 
stery," Owen  christened  it  himself — settled  down 
in  its  new  abode,  and  to  face  the  ordeal  of  a  first 
meeting  with  lone  Dracopoli  in  the  ordinary 
(  veryday  garb  of  feminine  Christendom. 

He  touched  the  electric  bell  at  the  outer  door 
with  one  timid  finger.  It  flew  open  of  itself, 
iifter  our  modern  magic  fashion,  and  Sacha's 
voice  was  heard  from  a  dim  distance  down  the 
passage  crying  out  "Come  in,"  in  most  audible 
iiccents.  Owen  followed  the  direction  of  the 
voice  toward  the  drawing-room  at  the  end,  and 
entered  the  pretty  white  and  yellow  apartment 
in  a  flutter  of  expectation. 

His  first  feeling  on  looking  round  was  a  vague 
consciousness  of  relief.  lone  wasn't  there.  How 
lucky!  .  .  .     And  how  provoking! 

Sacha  jumped  up  and  greeted  him  with  a  sis- 
terly kiss.  Then  she  turned  toward  a  long 
wicker  chair  with  it^  back  to  the  door.  "This 
is  Blackbird,"  she  said,  simply,  waving  her 
hand  in  that  direction,  and  Owen  bowed  his 
most  distinguished  consideration. 

"What  a  shame,  Sacha,"  a  full  rich  voice 
broke  out  from  the  depths  of  the  chair,  where 
Owen  at  first  hadn't  noticed  anybody  sitting; 
"fancy  introducing  one  that  way!  This  is  your 
brother,  I  suppose.  But  please  don't  let  him 
think  my  name's  really  Blackbird." 

Owen  peered  into  the  long  chair  whence  the 


■■■.,^J(- 


fX 


m^ 


E?»    . 


130 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


voice  proceeded,  and  saw  a  frail  little  woman, 
stretched  out  in  it  lazily — a  frail  little  woman 
who  ought  to  have  been  eighteen,  to  judge  by 
her  development,  but  who,  as  Sacha  had  alreatly 
iUi."orraod  him,  was  really  twenty-seven.  She 
was  tiny  like  a  doll;  not  short,  but  small  and 
dainty;  and  as  she  lounged  there  at  full  length, 
with  two  pallid  hands  clasped  loose  behind  her 
shapely  neck,  and  head  thrown  back  carelessly, 
she  looked  too  fragile  for  this  earth — a  mere  del- 
icate piece  of  semi-transparent  Drosdan  China. 
Blackbird  was  dark  and  large-eyed;  her  eyes, 
indeed,  though  by  no  means  too  prominent, 
seemed  somehow  her  most  distinct  and  salient 
feature.  Such  eyes  Owen  had  never  seen  in  his 
life  before.  They  were  black  and  lustrous,  and 
liquid  like  a  gazelle's,  and  they  turned  upon  him 
plaintively  and  flooded  him  with  sad  light  every 
time  she  spoke  to  him.  Otherwise,  the  frjiil  lit- 
tle woman  was  neither  exactly  pretty  nor  yet 
what  one  could  fairly  describe  as  plain.  Slie 
was  above  all  things  interesting.  A  profound 
pity  for  her  evident  feebleness  was  the  first  feci 
ing  she  inspired.  "Poor  wee  little  thing !"  one 
felt  inclined  to  say  as  one  saw  her.  A  fatherly 
instinct,  indeed,  would  have  tempted  most  men 
to  lay  one  hand  caressingly  on  her  smooth  black 
hair,  as  they  took  her  pale  thin  fingers  in  th(3ir 
own  with  the  other.  But  her  smile  was  sweet, 
though  very  full  of  pensiveness.  A  weary  little 
soul,  Owen  thought  to  himself  as  he  gazed, 
weighed  down  by  the  burden  of  this  age's 
complexity. 


■■.- ipfl? 


>ERS. 

^il  little  woman, 
ail  little  woman 
oen,  to  judge  by 
^ha  had  already 
)nty-8even.  She 
,  but  small  and 
■e  at  full  length, 
loose  behind  her 

back  carelessly, 
rth — a  mere  del- 
Dresdan  China, 
eyed;   her  eyes, 

too  prominent, 
inct  and  salient 
never  seen  in  his 
ad  lustrous,  and 
;urned  upon  him 
1  sad  light  every 
ise,  the  frail  lit- 
r  pretty  nor  yet 
1  as  plain.  Shu 
ig.  A  profound 
t'as  the  first  feci 
itle thing!"  cne 
ler.  A  fatherly 
npted  most  men 
ler  smooth  blaok 

fingers  in  th(3ir 

smile  vras  sweet, 

A  weary  little 

f   as  he  gazed, 

.    of    this   ag^'g 


"No,  her  name's  not  really  Blackbird,  on 
course,"  Sacha  responded  quietly  in  her  matter- 
of  -  fact  tone,  looking  down  with  a  motherly 
glance  at  the  shrinking  figure  in  the  long  wicker 
chair.  "Her  name,  to  be  official,  is  Hope  Merle 
Braithwaite.  There  now  —  is  that  definite 
enough?  Mr.  Cazalet — Miss  Braithwaite.  You 
know  her  songs,  Owen — and  so  you  know  her- 
self. She's  all  one  song.  She  evaporates  in 
music.  That's  why  1  call  her  Blackbird,  you 
see!"  and  Sacha  smoothed  her  friend's  head 
lovingly;  "she's  so  tiny  and  so  dark,  and  she's 
got  so  much  voice  in  her  for  such  a  wee  little  bit 
of  a  thing.  When  she  sings,  she  always  re- 
minds me  of  a  blackbird  on  a  thorn  bush,  pour- 
ing out  its  full  life  in  a  soug  a  great  deal  too  big 
for  it.  You  know  the  way  their  throats  seem  to 
swell  and  burst  with  the  notes?  Well,  Black- 
bird's throat  dt^es  just  the  same.  She  wastes 
herself  in  music." 

Blackbird  unclasped  her  hands  from  behind 
her  neck,  and  shook  her  head  solemnly.  Owen 
observed  now  it  was  well-shaped,  and  covered, 
with  straight  glossy  hair,  as  black  and  as  shiny 
as  her  namesake's  plumage.  "Pure-  poetical 
fancy,  evolved  after  the  fact!"  she  said,  smil- 
ing sadly,  with  the  air  of  a  woman  who  shat- 
ters against  the  grain  one  more  cherished  delu- 
sion. "The  reality's  this.  My  parents  were 
good  enough  to  christen  me  Merle,  after  my 
Swiss  relations,  the  Merle  D'Aubigne's,  and  I'm 
called  Merle  at  home,  though  I  was  Hope  at 
Oxford.     And  when  Sacha  hdard  the  name,  she 


_i  i 


152 


UNDBR  SEALED  ORDERS. 


thought  it  extremely  appropriate  to  my  dark  hair 
and  eyes,  and  she  Englished  it  as  Blackbird. 
That's  tlie  whole  truth  of  the  matter.  All  this 
other  imaginative  nonsense  about  pouring  my 
throat  in  song  came  ex  paste  facto.  It  has 
nothing  to  do  with  the  name.  So  there's  how 
myth  grows."  And  she  folded  the  two  pale 
hands  resignedly  in  front  of  her. 

Owen  noted  that  "ea:  poste  facto^*  with  be- 
coming awe.  Not  for  nothing  had  Blackbird 
studied  dead  tongues  at  Oxford. 

"Well,  what  do  you  think  of  the  flat?"  Sacha 
asked,  with  a  compassionate  glance  at  the  poor 
weak  little  pessimist.  "We've  got  it  up  nicely 
into  form  now,  haven't  we?  Take  a  good  look 
round  the  room,  and  then  come  and  see  my 
studio. " 

"You've  done  wonders,"  Owen  answered, 
gazing  about  him,  well  pleased.  "And  it's 
charming,  charming!  How  lovely  you've  made 
that  corner  there — with  those  draperies  and  pip- 
kins— and  my  Morocco  mud  ware  too — so  de- 
liciously  Oriental.  That's  Miss  Braithwaite's,  I 
suppose — the  grand  piano  in  the  comer?" 

The  frail  girl  looked  up  at  him,  with  those 
great  sad  eyes.  "jVo^  Miss  Braithwaite,"  she 
said  calmly,  and  Owen  noticed  now  at  once  a 
certain  obvious  disparity,  as  Sacha  had  sug- 
gested, between  the  full  musical  voice  and  the 
slender  frame  that  produced  it.  "Not  Miss 
Braithwaite,  if  you  please.  Saoha's  arranged 
ail  that  already.  She's  a  splendid  hand  at  ar- 
ranging things,  Sacha.    She  bosses  the  show, 


tiJ^ti^di 


■■^i-w^e.-^i^effS9^im 


my  dark  hair 
as  Blackbird. 
bter.  All  this 
!;  pouring  my 
acto.  It  has 
0  there's  how 
the  two  pale 

icto^*  with  be- 
tad  Blackbird 

!  flat?"  Sacha 
ce  at  the  poor 
it  it  up  nicely 
3  a  good  look 
and  see  my 

en  answered, 
L  "And  it's 
r  you've  made 
)eries  and  pip- 
•e  too — so  de- 
raithwaite's,  I 
)rnor?" 

m,  with  those 
thwaite,"  she 
ow  at  once  a 
aha  had  sug- 
voice  and  the 
"Not  Miss 
ha's  arranged 
i  hand  at  ar- 
ses the  show, 


Kffi^'mifi'^vm 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


193 


lone  says,  and  I  must  admit  she  bosses  it  beau- 
tifully. So  nice  to  have  all  the  bother  of  living 
taken  off  your  hands  by  a  capable,  masterful, 
practical  person.  That's  what  I  admire  so — in 
Sacha.  Well,  she's  decided  that  we're  all  to  be 
one  family  here — a  pantisocracy,  lone  calls  it. 
No  Miss  and  no  Misters.  You're  to  be  Owen 
and  I'm  to  be  Blackbird.  lone's  cook,  she's  out 
marketing  now,  and  Sacha  and  I've  just  washed 
up  the  breakfast  things.  So,  of  course,  it's  ab- 
surd, in  such  a  household  as  this,  to  think  o£ 
calling  one  another^  Mr.  What's  -  his  -  name  or 
Miss  So-and-so."  '  , 

"I  don't  see  why,  I'm  sure,"  Owen  answered, 
much  amused.  "A  lady's  none  the  less  a  lady, 
surely,  because  she  cau  do  something  useful 
about  her  own  house,  as  our  grandmothers  used 
to  do." 

"But  our   grandmothers    knew  no  Greek," 
Blackbird  replied,  going  off  at  a  most  illogical 
tangent.      "It's    the     combination    that    kills 
us,  you  know  —  Greek,   and    household    drud- ' 
gery." 

"Come  and  see  my  studio,"  Sacha  interposed 
cheerily,  leading  the  way  to  the  next  room.  It 
was  Sacha's  business  to  cut  the  little  pessimist 
short  whenever  possible.  And  when  the  studio 
had  been  duly  inspected  they  went  on  to  the  din- 
ing-room, and  the  bedrooms,  and  the  kitchen, 
and  the  pantry,  and  the  little  scullery  at  the' 
back,  and  a  stone-floored  office  behind,  full  of 
chemical  apparatus. 

"Why,  what's  this?"  Owen  asked,  surprised. 


''£j 


n 


124 


UMDRR  SEALED  OROBRS. 


"Is  Misfl  Dracopoli  scientific,  then,  as  well  as 
literary?" 

"Oh,  dear  no,"  Blackbird  answered,  with  a 
languid  druwl,  but  always  in  that  same  rich 
voice:  "lone's  nothing  on  earth.  Like  Du  Man- 
ner's Postlethwaite,  she's  content  to  'exist  beau- 
tifully.' This  is  my  laboratory,  this  room.  But 
I've  promised  the  girls  never  to  make  any  dread- 
fully odorous  stews  in  it.  I  couldn't  get  along 
without  a  laboratory,  you  know.  I  must  have 
somewhere  to  do  my  chemical  experimente." 

Owen  scanned  the  frail  little  body  from  head 
io  foot,  alarmed.  Was  this  what  female  educa- 
tion was  leading  our  girls  to?  "Greek,  music, 
chemistry!"  he  exclaimed,  gazing  dowu  upon 
her  five  feet  two  from  the  calm  height  of  his 
own  towering  masculine  stature.  "You  don't 
mean  to  say  you  combine  them  all  in  your  own 
sole  person!" 

"And  not  much  of  a  person  at  that!"  Black- 
bird answered,  with  a  faint  sigh.  "Yes,  that's 
how  I  wab  brought  up.  It's  the  fault  of  the  sys- 
tem. My  r  iw  material  all  went  oflf  in  brain  and 
nerfes,  I'm  afraid.  I  worked  those  so  hard, 
there  was  nothing  at  all  left  to  build  up  blood, 
and  bone,  and  flesh,  and  muscle." 

"But  why  on  earth  did  you  do  it?"  Owen 
couldn't  help  exclaiming.  For  Blackbird's 
frank  remark  was  so  obviously  true.  It  might 
be  rude  of  him  to  admit  it,  but  he  didn't  feel 
inclined  to  contradict  a  lady. 

"I  didn't  do  it,"  Blackbird  answered  piteous- 
ly.    "It  was  my  people  who  educated  me.    You 


an,  as  well  as 

worod,  with  a 
hat  same  rich 

Like  Du  Mau- 

to  'exist  bean- 
liis  room.  But 
ike  any  dread- 
Idti't  get  along 
I  must  have 
•erimente." 
•ody  from  head 

female  educa- 
'  Greek,  music, 
ig  dowu  upon 

height  of  his 

"You  don't 

U  in  your  own 

that!"  Black- 
"Yes,  that's 
ault  of  the  sys- 
ifF  in  brain  and 
those  so  hard, 
build  up  blood, 

do  it?"  Owen 
T  Blackbird's 
rue.  It  might 
he  didn't  feel 

jwered  piteous- 
ated  me.    You 


,. 


/ 


UNDER  SEALEOr  ORDERS. 


125 


see,  they  thought  I  was  clever — perhaps  I  was, 
to  Htart  with,  and  thoy  crammed  mo  with  every- 
tliing  on  earth  a  girl  could  learn— Latin,  Greek, 
modern  languages,  mathematics,  natural  science, 
music,  drawing,  dancing,  till  I  was  stuffed  to  the 
throat  with  thom.  Je  suisjusque  /<>,"  and  she 
put  her  hand  to  her  chin  with  some  dim  attempt  at 
feminine  playfulness.  "Like  Strasbourg  geese, " 
slie  added  slowly  in  a  melancholy  after  thought. 
"It  may  be  good  for  the  brain,  but  it's  precious 
bad  for  the  body. " 

Owen  stretched  his  big  shoulders  back  and  ex- 
jmnded  his  chest  involuntarily.  The  mere  sight 
of  that  weak  frame  seemed  to  make  him  assert 
his  own  physical  prowess  by  automatic  contrast. 
"But  why  do  you  go  on  with  it  now?"  he  asked 
simply.  "Why  continue  to  work  at  this  chem- 
iatiy,  for  example?  In  poky  London  rooms,  you 
want  all  the  fresh  air  you  can  get,  surely.  How 
infinitely  better,  now,  instead  of  chemistry,  to 
join  a  lawn  tennis  club." 

Blackbird  shrank  back  as  if  terrified.  "A 
lawn  tenuis  club!"  she  cried,  all  amazed. 
"Oh,  doar,  they'd  be  so  rough.  They'd  knock 
one  about  so.  I  can't  bear  being  bullied. 
That's  why  I  like  Sacha  and  lone  so  much. 
They're  strong,  but  they  don't  bully  you.  Oh, 
dear,  oh,  dear,  I  could  never  play  tennis.  I've 
been  brought  up  to  mix  chemicals,  and  read 
books,  and  compose  music ;  and  it's  like  a  reflex 
action  now.  I  compose  automatically.  I  test  for 
acids  like  a  machine.  I've  learned  to  do  these 
things  till  I  can't  get  on  without  doing  them." 


% 


•  t4 


m-:- 


126 


TTm>RR  SRALRD  ORDERS. 


Sacha  turned  tu  him  quickly,  and  said  some- 
thipg  short  in  a  hinguage  which  Blackbird  didn't 
underBtand,  good  linguist  though  sho  wan.  But 
Owon  know  that  the  Russian  sentence  she  ut- 
tered so  fast  meant  this  in  effect:  "That's  just 
why  I  took  hor  to  live  with  us  here.  She's  so 
frail  and  frightened,  she  needs  somehodj'  bright 
to  put  sunshine  iu  her  life,  somebody  strong  and 
strong  willed  to  protect  her  and  encourage  her." 

"JWy  own  i>eople  are  strong,  you  know,"  Black- 
bird went  on  in  the  same  plaintive  voice,  watch- 
ing a  still  as  she  spoke,  "ana  they  always  bully 
me.  They're  Philistines,  of  course;  but  do  you 
know,  I  think  Philistines  are  really  the  very 
worst  on  education.  From  the  day  I  was  born, 
almost,  they  kept  me  constantly  at  it.  Papti's  a 
colonial  broker— though  I'm  sure  I  don't  know 
what  he  brokes,  or  what  broking  is — but  he  de- 
cided from  the  time  I  was  a  baby  in  arms,  I  was 
to  be  thoroughly  well  educated.  And  educate  1 1 
was — oh,  my,  it's  just  dreadful  to  me  even  now 
to  look  back  upon  it.  Music,  from  the  time  I 
could  hardly  finger  the  piano.  Greek,  as  soon 
as  I  knew  my  English  letters;  mathematics, 
when  most  girls  are  only  beginning  arithmetic, 
Strum,  strum,  strum,  from  breakfaet  to  bedtime. 
And  then  at  seventeen  I  was  sent  to  Lady  Mar- 
garet. That  was  the  first  happy  time  I  ever 
knew  in  my  life.  The  girls  were  so  nice  to  me. 
There  was  one  girl,  I  remember — " 

But  at  that  moment,  a  latchkey  turned  sharp 
in  the  door,  and  a  light  foot  entered.  The  sun- 
shine had  come.     Owen  turned   round  with  a 


m. 

atl  Raid  some- 
Hckbird  didn't 
?ho  wan.  Biit 
Qtence  she  ut- 

"That's  just 
lere.  She's  bo 
Tiebody  bright 
idy  strong  and 
icourage  her." 
enow,"  Blaok- 

voice,  watch- 
T  always  bully 
M);  but  do  you 
(ally  the  very 
ly  I  was  born, 
t  it.     Papa's  a 

I  don't  know 
is — but  he  de- 
in  arms,  I  was 
iLnd  educate-!  I 
)  me  even  now 
»m  the  time  I 
Sreek,  as  soon 

mathematics, 
ag  arithmetic. 
let  to  bedtime. 
1  to  Lady  Mar- 
f  time  I  ever 

so  nice  to  me. 

r  turned  sharp 
red.  The  sun- 
round  with  a 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


127 


beating  heart.  "Is  that  lone  Dracopoli?"  he 
asked,  trembling,  of  Sacha. 

And  even  as  ho  spoke,  a  tripping  figure  with  a 
basket  held  gayly  in  one  hand  burst  quick  into 
the  laboratory. 

"Why,  hero's  Owen!"  the  girl  cried,  seizing 
both  his  hands  like  an  old  friend.  "I  thought  I 
heai'd  his  voice !    Well,  I  do  call  this  jolly  I' ' 


chaptp:u  XIV. 

lONB    IN     ENGLAND. 

When  Owen  had  recovered  his  breath  enough 
to  take  a  good  look  at  h^p,  he  saw  in  a  moment 
for  himself  lone  was  simply  charming. 

In  Morocco,  he  had  wondered  vaguely  more 
than  once  in  his  own  mind  how  much  of  hor 
nameless  magic  fit  first  sight  was  due  merely  to 
the  'oddity  and  piquancy  of  her  dress,  and  the 
quaintness  of  the  circumstances.  You  don't  ex- 
pect to  meet  a  stray  English  girl  every  day,  per- 
vading untrodden  Atlas  in  male  Moorish  attire, 
and  astride  on  her  saddle  horse  like  a  man  and  a 
brother.  "Perhaps,"  he  had  said  to  himself — 
trying  to  reason  down  his  admiration,  for  Mr. 
Hayward's  sake,  and  in  the  interests  of  the 
Cause — "perhaps  if  one  saw  her  in  London  in 
ordinary  English  clothes,  one  would  think  no 


■'V;'l 


II 


1S8 


UNDRK  HKALBD  ORDBRg, 


rnort>  of  her  thim  of  tho  iivornfro  young  woman 
ono  t«keH  down  any  day  in  tho  woek,  todinnor," 
WoU,  he  had  tho  opportunity  nuw  of  testing  this 
half-formed  idea— and  ho  found  it  broak  down 
in  practice  moHt  coucluHively.  loue  wa«  beauti- 
ful, not  a  doubt  in  the  world  alK)ut  that;  a» 
bright,  as  taking,  nay,  even  for  that  matter  as 
original  and  hh  free  in  her  loose  Liberty  dross  as 
even  in  the  embroidered  jacket  and  Turkish 
trousers  of  her  North  African  experiences. 

A  beautiful  girl,  fresh,  fair  and  vivacious;  a 
perfect  contra,st  to  Blackbird  in  her  fluffy  chest- 
nut hair,  her  vitality,  her  strength;  to  Saeha  in 
her  boundless  spirits,  her  quick  ways,  her  flowing 
talk,  her  very  boisterousness  and  cheeriness. 

"So  here's  Owen,"  she  repeated  after  a  mo- 
ment, turning  the  contents  of  her  basket  out 
on  the  scullery  table  with  delicious  frankness. 
"Well,  tliis  is  just  too  nice  for  anything!  I'm 
BO  glad  I've  not  missed  you.  Come  along  then, 
Owen,  and  make  yourself  generally  useful  in  tho 
kitchen,  like  a  good  fellow.  You  may  help  me, 
if  you  like,  to  get  the  lunch  things  ready." 

There  was  a  fall  in  Russians.  Mr.  Hayward 
and  tho  Cause  went  instantly  down  to  Zero. 
Owen  was  coTiscious  at  that  moment  of  only 
two  objects  in  the  whole  round  world,  lone  Dra- 
copoli,  and  a  violent  palpitation  under  his  own 
left  waistcoat. 

Never  was  luncheon  prepared  by  so  many 
cooks  as  that  one.  This  was  their  first  morning 
in  the  flat,  so  they  were  new  to  the  work  as  yet, 
and  besides,  flirtation  and  cookery  went  band  ict 


young  woman 
ok,  todinnor." 
of  tofltiuK  thiB 
it  brofvk  dov.'n 
ue  wtw  beiiuti- 
ibout  that;  a» 
■\\at  matter  iih 
iberty  droHH  na 

and  TurkiHh 
irionooa. 
I  vivacioiiB;  a 
er  fluflfy  chest- 
i;  to  Sachn  in 
ya,  hor  flowing 
heeriness. 
)d  after  a  nic- 
er basket  out 
3US  frankness, 
nythiug!  I'm 
no  along  then, 
y  useful  in  tho 

may  help  me, 
i  ready." 
Mr.  Hayward 
own  to  Zero, 
ment  of  only 
rid,  lone  Dra- 
iinder  his  own 

by  so  many 
•  first  morning 
le  work  as  yet, 

went  hand  ict 


.^■>.\,:''.r 


„ 


rNDRR  BRALKD  ORnBRfl. 


lao 


hi  nd  tf)gethor.  'Twas  Arcadia  in  Pimlico. 
lone,  in  her  soft  woolen  torra-ootta,  gown,  with 
white  apron  in  front,  and  num-cook's  cap  con- 
lining  hor  free  ciiOBtiiut  lucks  above,  looked  oven 
prettier  than  ever  in  her  now  cajHtcity.  Owen 
liold  the  saucepans  for  her  to  mix  things  in  as 
in  the  seventh  heaven,  or  atirreil  tie  custard  on 
the  stovt!  with  rapturous  fingers.  Sacha  pro- 
pared  tho  moat,  and  took  charge  of  tho  fire  and 
tho  oven.  Blackbird  sat  by,  and  exercised  a 
general  critical  supervision  of  a  pt^ssimistio 
character.  She  knew  tho  soup  could  never  turn 
out  right  like  that,  and  she  had  the  gloomiest 
possible  views  of  her  own  as  to  the  success  of 
the  lemon  cheesecakes.  But  the  event  didn't 
justify  tlttr'Cassandra  of  the  flat,  for  lunch,  when 
it  arrived,  was  most  brilliantly  successful. 

About  three  o'clock,  however,  as  they  rested 
from  their  toil  after  washing  up  the  dishes,  there 
came  a  ring  at  the  bell,  and  lone,  who  had 
jxieped  out  with  Intent  to  answer  it,  di'evv  her 
head  back  suddenly,  spying  strangers  through 
the  stained  glass  panels  of  the  outer  door. 
"GDodness  gracious,  girls,"  she  cried,  all  ag^, 
glancing  down  at  her  apron,  "what  shall  we 
ever  do?     I  declare — it's  visitors!" 

"Visitors!"  Sacha  replied.  "And  already! 
Impossible!"  « 

lone  seized  Owen  most  unceremoniously  by 
t!ie  arm,  and  pushed  him  forwaitl  into  the  pas- 
sage. "You  go  and  answer  it,  Owen,"  she  said, 
laughing.  ."You're  tho  most  presentable  of  the 
lot,  and  it's  men,  I  think.    Qentlemen." 


'■f 
Ai 


130 


UNDKR  HEALED  ORDERS. 


Owen  went  to  the  door.  Sure  enough  two 
strangers  stood  there,  in  the  neatest  of  frock 
coats,  and  the  glossiest  of  tall  hats,  with  hot- 
house flowers  in  their  buttonholes — a  couple  of 
men-about-town,  Owen  thought  to  himself,  with 
fine  contempt  at  first  sight,  if  ever  he  saw  a  pair. 
They  were  aged  about  thirty  and  looked  as 
though  their  collars  were  their  main  object  in 
life.  Owen  took  a  prejudice  against  them  at  a 
glance.  These  fellows  were  too  dapper  and  too 
well  groomed  by  far  for  the  big-limbed  athlete's 
rough  country-bred  fancy. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  the  tallest  and  handsom- 
est of  the  two  said  with  an  apologetic  air — he 
wore  a  gardenia  in  his  buttonhole.  "I  think  we 
must  have  made  a  mistake.  Does  Miss  Braith- 
waite  live  here?" 

Owen  held  the  door  ajar  dubiously  in  his  hand, 
and  blocked  the  entrance  with  his  big  frame  as 
he  answered  in  no  very  friendly  voice,  "She 
does.     Do  ^ou  want  to  see  her?" 

The  yoimg  man  with  the  gardenia  answered 
more  modestly  than  Owen  expected,  "Well, 
we'd  like  to  send  our  cards  in,  and  if  Miss 
Braithwaite's  not  engaged,  we'd  be  much 
obliged  if  she  could  spare  us  just  a  very  few 
minutes." 

He> handed  Owen  his  card  as  he  spoke.  Owen 
glanced  at  it  and  read,  "Mr.  Trevor  Gardener." 
The  gardenia  was  his  mark,  as  it  were,  a  sort  of 
armoiries  parlantes. 

The  other  man,  who  was  shorter  and  darker, 
and  wore  an  orchid  in  his  buttonhole,  handed 


,-„,. ...  ,.,.--:J&isMim$^^^i^^iiS&f: 


SRS. 

re  enough  two 
eateot  of  frock 
hats,  with  hot- 
es — a  couple  of 
:o  himself,  with 
p  he  saw  a  pair, 
and  looked  as 
main  object  in 
Eiinst  them  at  a 
dapper  and  too 
imbed  athlete's 

t  and  handsom- 
>logetic  air — he 
i.  "I  think  we 
38  Miss  Braith- 

isly  in  his  hand, 
is  big  frame  as 
ly  voice,   "She 

denia  answered 
pected,  "Well, 
1,  and  if  Miss 
e'd  be  much 
List  a  very  fe^y 

e  spoke.  Owen 
vor  Gardener." 
i  were,  a  sort  of 

ber  and  darker, 
bonhole,  handed 


,' 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


131 


his  at  the  same  time.    It  bore  the  name,  "Henley 
Stokes,  5  Pump  Court,  Temple." 

Owen  couldn't  say  why,  but  the  glossy  tall 
hats  and  the  neat  frock  coats  put  his  back  up 
inexpressibly.  He  retreated  down  the  passage, 
with  a  hobbledehoy's  awkwardness,  leaving  the 
two  men  standing  sheepish  at  the  open  door,  and 
said  in  a  loud  voice,  more  plainly  than  politely 
as  he  laid  down  the  cards  on  the  drawing-rorm 
table,  "Two  fellows  outside,  come  to  call  upon 
Blackbird." 

"Show  them  in,"  Sacha  replied,  with  as^much 
dignity  as  if  he  were  her  footman,  instead  of  her 
brother,  and  Owen  ushered  them  promptly  into 
the  bright  little  drawing-room. 

Mr.  Gardener,  with  the  gardenia,  was,  like 
Paul,  the  chief  speaker.  To  be  sure,  he'd  never 
n?et  Blackbird  before,  that  was  clear,  nor  had 
his  -friend  either.  They  both  bowed  distantly 
with  a  certain  awed  respect  as  they  took  their 
seats,  and  as  Blackbird  iutroducech  them  infor- 
mally to  the  remainder  of  the  company.  But 
for  a  minute  or  two  they  talked  society  small 
talk  about  flats  in  general,  and  this  flat  in  par- 
ticular, vvitho'it  explaining  the  special  business 
that  had  brought  them  there  that  afternoon. 
They  began  well,  indeed,  by  admiring  evpry- 
thing  in  the  rooms,  from  floor  to  ceiling.  But 
Owen  noticed  now,  somewhat  appeased,  that  in 
spite  of  their  hats  and  coats  they  were  distinctly 
nervous.  They  seemed  to  have  something  they 
wanted  to  say.  without  being  able  to  muster  up 
the  needful  courage  for  saying  it. 


r^^'«'-  "'■ 


:>1      >i'^      ■'/''■'■ft'-'        « 


"*■'  J^    ./''?' 


132 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


At  last  the  man  with  the  gardenia  ventured 
to  turn  to  Blackbird  with  a  pointblank  remark, 
"I  daresay  you're  wondering,  Miss  Braithwaite, 
what  made  us  come  to  call  upon  you." 

"Well,  I  confess,"  Blackbird  said  languidly, 
in  that  rich  clear  voice  of  heis,  *'I  did  rather  ask 
myself  what  on  earth  you  wanted  with  me." 

Mr.  Trevor  Gardener  paused,  and  looked 
straight  into  her  big  eyes.  He  was  more  nerv- 
ous than  ever;  flut  he  made  a  ( leau  b: ^ast  of  it. 
"I'm  at  tlie  Stc-^k  Exchange,'  he  eaid  at  last, 
after.a  long-drawn  interval.  "In  point  of  fact, 
I'm — I'm  a  broker." 

"That's  bad!"  lone  put  in  with  a  twinkling 
eye  full  of  mischief. 

Mr.  Gai-dener  turned  full  upon  her  a  look  of 
most  obvious  relief.  His  face  brightened  visi- 
"bly.  *'Why,  just  so,"  he  said,  more  at  his  ease. 
"'That's  precisely  what  I  always  say  myself. 
That's  the  reason  I've  come.  A  stockbroker's 
bad.  Most  ^useless  exci-escence  on  the  commu- 
nity, a  stockbroker." 

"Exactly,"  Sacha  interposed  with  her  gravo 
quiet  voice.  "A  middleman  who  perforir  'iu 
good  service  of  anj'  sort."  • 

Mr.  Gardener  brightened  still  more.  "i;,.ii 
there  it  is,,  you  see,"  he  answered,  rubbing  tii;' 
hands  together,  well  pleased.  "I  feel  it  myself; 
and  so  does  Stokes,  who's  a  barrister.  He  feels ' 
the  bar's  a  fraud.  That's  what  emboldened  us 
to  come.  We're  weighed  down  by  a  sense  of 
our  own  utter  uselessness. " 

"A  very  hopeful  symptom,"  Sacha  responded 


RS. 

lenia  ventured 
blank  remark, 
IS  Braithwaite, 
ou." 

aid  languidly, 
did  rather  ask 
with  me." 
,  and  looked 
vas  more  nerv- 
lu  breast  of  it. 
le  gaid  at  last, 
point  of  fact, 

ch  a  twinkling 

I  her  a  look  of 
rightened  visi- 
ore  at  his  ease. 
'8  say  myself. 
L  stockbroker's 
>n  the  commu- 

vith  her  grave 
lo  perfonr     'io 

more.  "Ah, 
id,  rubbing  fa,;- 
feel  it  myself; 
ster.  He  feels ' 
emboldened  us 
by  a  sense  of 

acha  responded 


UNDER  SBALBD  ORDERS 


smiling.  "Conviction  of  sin  comes  first,  repent- 
ance afterward.  But  how  did  you  happen  to 
hear  of  us?" 

Mr.  Gardener  pulled  up  his  shirt  collar,  and 
rearranged  his  cuffs,  to  hide  his  embarrassment. 
"Well,  we've  the  pleasure  of  knowing  Mr. 
Braithwaite,"  he  answered  very  tentatively. 

"Oh,  indeed!"  Blackbird  replied,  in  a  tone 
which  showed  clearly  that  acquaintance  with 
her  father  was  no  particular  introduction  to  her. 

"In  business!"  Mr.  Gardener  interposed,  def- 
erentially, as  who  would  deprecate  her  criticism.  ■ 
"And  we're  musical — very  musical.  "We  hopetl 
on  that  ground  at  least — though,  perhaps,  we're 
intruding."  And  he  glanced  at  Owen,  who  sat, 
silent,  on  the  defensive. 

"Not  at  all,"  Owen  answered,  much  mystified, 
though  with  no  very  good  grace.  "We're  pleased, 
I'm  sure,  to  see  you." 

"Well,  we  were  dining  at  Mr.  Braithwaite's 
club  with  him  last  night,"  the  man  with  the 
gardenia  went  on,  looking  askance  at  Blackbird, 
who  sat  in  the  long  chair  toying  languid  with  a 
fan.  "And  he  happened  to  mention  this  com- 
pound household  of  yours,  and  what  persons 
corr  posed  it.  And  it  interested  us  very  much, 
because  we'  ve  both  sung  your  songs,  Miss  Braith- 
waite, and  both  loved  your  music,  and  we've  read 
Miss  Dracopoli's  delightful  article  on  Morocco  in 
the  Biweekly  Review  with  very  great  interest, 
and  we've  admired  Miss  Cazalet's  Greek  girls  at 
the  Academy.  And  though  Mr.  Braithwaite  gave 
UB  perhaps  a  somewhat  unfavorable  versioji  of 


UNDER  SEALED  OBDERS. 


your  aims  and  ideas — iDdeed,  threw  cold  water 
upon  them — I  may  venture  to  say  we  sympathized 
with  your  desire  for  a  simpler  mode  of  life." 
He  glancetl  down  at  his  spotless  shoes  with  a 
sort  of  niuto  deprecation,  and  grew  more  inartic- 
ulate «till  as  the  subject  closed  in  upon  him. 
"lu  point  of  fact,"  he  went  on,  growing  red  and 
stammering  worse  than  ever,  "we  both  admired 
you  all  for  it  immensely." 

"And  so?"  Sacha  said,  interrogatively. 

"And  so — "  Mr.  Gardener  went  on,  looking  at 
his  friend  for  assistance— "now,  then,  you  help 
me  out,  Henley!" 

Mr.  Stokes,  thus  dragged  into  it,  grew  red  in 
the  face  in  turn,  and  responded  in  h'is  place, 
"Well,  Trevor  said  to  me,  'It's  a  shame,  if  these 
ladies  want  to  stai't  a  new  household  on  rational 
principles  like  that,  they  should  have  to  do  all 
the  rough  work  of  the  house  themselves,  isn't  it, 
Henley?'  And  I  said,  'So  it  seems.  It's  not 
woman's  place  to  bear  the  brunt  of  hard  work. 
I  wonder  what  they'd  say,  now,  if  you  and  I 
were  to  step  round,  and  assure  them  of  our — 
well,  our  sympathy  with  them  in  this  new  de- 
parture, and  ask  'em  if  they'd  allow  us  to  call  in 
every  morning— before  they  get  up,  don't  you 
know  —  without  necessarily  meeting  them  or 
knowing  them  socially  at  all — just  to  light  the 
fires,  and  clean  the  grates,  and  black  the  boots, 
»*nd  polish  the  knives,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing?' 
And  Trevor  said  'Capital.'  And  so  we  decided 
we'd  ask.  And  now — well,  now,  if  you  please, 
we've  come  round-to  ask  you." 


DERS. 

hrew  cold  water 
7  we  sympathized 
r  mode  of  life." 
ess  shoes  with  a 
•ew  more  inartic- 
»d  in  upon  him. 
growing  red  and 
we  both  admired 

'ogatively. 

nt  on,  looking  at 

^  then,  you  help 

0  it,  grew  red  in 
Bd  in  his  place, 
a  shame,  if  these 
jhold  on  rational 
d  have  to  do  all 
mselves,  isn't  it, 
seems.  It's  not 
it  of  hard  work. 
V,  if  you  and  I 

1  them  of  our — 
in  this  new  do- 
low  us  to  call  in 
t  up,  don't  you 
jetiug  them  or 
ist  to  light  the 
black  the  boots, 
tt  sort  of  thing?' 
d  so  we  decided 
r,  if  you  please, 


tJNDKR  SEALED  ORDERS. 


135 


Sacha  looked  at  lone.  lone  looked  at  Sacha. 
Blackbird  looked  at  both.  And  then  all  three 
together  burst  out  laughing  unanimously. 

That  laugh  saved  the  fort.  Owen  joined  in, 
and  so  did  the  two  young  men,  _  who  really 
seemed,  after  all,  like  very  good  fellows.  They 
laughed  for  twenty  seconds  without  answering  a 
word.  Then  Sacha  mustered  up  gravity  enough 
to  say  with  a  little  burst,  "But  you  see  we  don't 
know  you!" 

"Oh,  we're  very  respectable,"  Mr.  Gardener 
put  in,  gazing  down  at  his  gardenia.  "In  fact, 
that's  just  it.  "We're  a  great  deal  too  respecta- 
ble. This  monotony  palls.  And  we  thought  it 
80  brave  of  you  to  attempt  an  innovation.  "We 
can  give  excellent  references  too,  you  know — in 
the  city  or  elsewhere.  My  friend's  an  Oxford 
man.  I'm  a  partner  myself  in  Wilson,  Gar- 
dener, and  Isemberger;  very  well-known  house; 
Eve's  Court,  Old  Broad  Street."  And  he  folded 
one  gloved  hand  somewhat  beseechingly  over  the 
other. 

"But  cracking  the  coal,  you  know?"  lone 
suggested  with  a  merry  *winkle.  "You  couldn't 
do  that,  now,  could  you,  with  those  light  kid 
gloves  on?" 

Mr.  Gardener  began  hastily  to  remove  one  of 
the  incriminated  articles  with  little  nervous  tugs. 
"Oh,  they  come  off,  you  know,"  he  answered 
with  a  still  deeper  blush.  "They  don't  grow 
there,  of  course.  They're  mfere  separable  acci- 
dents. And  besides,  we're  so  anxious  to  help. 
And  we  know  Mr.  Braithwaite.     We  can  get 


136 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


letters  of  introductiou,  oh,  just  dozens  of  them, 
if  you  want  them." 

"But  wo  thought  it  best,"  Mr.  Stckes  inter- 
posed, "to  call  at  once,  and  strike  while  the  iron 
was  hot ;  for  we  were  afraid — well,  like  the  fel- 
low at  the'  pool  of  Siloam,  don't  you  know. 
"While  we  waited,  some  other  might  step  in 
before  us." 

Sacha  was  practical.  She  was  also  not  too 
afraid  of  saying  what  she  felt.  "The  best 
thing,"  she  suggested  after  a  moment's  reflec- 
tion, looking  t^e  facts  in  the  face,  "would  be 
for  you  both  to  stop  to  tea — and  help  us  get  it. 
Then  we  might  see  how  far  you're  likely  ta  suit 
the  place,  and  whether  we  can  avail  ourselves  or 
not  of  your  very  kind  offer." 

"That's  capital!"  Mr.  Henley  Stokes  replied, 
looking  across  at  his  friend,  and  peeling  his 
gloves  off  instantly.  "If  you  try  us,  I'm  sure 
you'll  find  we're  not  such  a  bad  sor-t  after  all — 
not  such  duffers  as  we  look.  We're  handy  men 
about  a  house.  And  we're  tired  of  being  no  use 
in  the  world  to  anybody  anywhere." 

And  indeed,  before  tea  was  over  and  dinner 
well  cooked,  the  two  young  men  had  succeeded 
in  making  themselves  so  useful,  so  agreeable, 
and  so  ornamental  as  well,  that  even  Owen's 
first  prejudice  died  away  by  degrees,  and  he 
voted  them  both  verj'  decent  fellows.  lone  re- 
marked in  an  audible  aside  that  they  were 
bricks,  and  Sache  declared  with  candor  they 
cquld  do  more  than  she  fancied.  In  the  end,  it 
was  unanimously  agr^d  the  oommunity  should 


*r,;.»,.^^ 


BRS. 

iozens  of  them, 

Ir.  Stckes  inter- 
e  while  the  iron 
ell,  like  the  fel- 
in't  you  know, 
might  step  iu 

as  also  not  too 
Bit.  "The  best 
noment's  reflec- 
ace,  "would  be 
[  help  us  get  it. 
're  likely  to  suit 
s^ail  ourselves  or 

Stokes  replied, 
md  peeling  his 
:ry  us,  I'm  sure 

sor-t  after  all — 
e're  handy  men 

of  being  no  use 
i-e." 

)ver  and  dinner 
n  had  succeeded 
1,  so  agreeable, 
it  even  Owen's 
legrees,  and  he 
lUows.  lone  re- 
:hat  they  were 
th  candor  they 
In  the  end,  it 
nmunity  should 


UNDBB  SBAX.BD  OBDBRS. 


137 


accept  their  proffered  services  for  the  present, 
and  during  good  behavior,  and  that  they  might 
begin  if  they  liked  by  lighting  the  fires  and 
blacking  the  boots  at  half -past  six  next  morning. 

"Hooray,  Trev,"  Mr.  Stokes  exclaimed  in  a 
tone  of  triumph,  looking  across  at  his  friend. 
"This  is  something  like  prepress !  This  is  better 
than  stock  broking!" 

"I'm  sure  we're  very  much  obliged  to  you  in- 
deed," Mr.  Gardener  added,  with  a  cheerful 
glance  at  a  coal  mark  on  his  spotless  cuff. 
"And  to  show  you  we've  no  intention  of  in- 
truding upon  you  in  any  way  beyond  what's 
strictly  necessary  in  the  way  of  business" — he 
t(>)k  up  his  hat  as  he  spoke— "we'll  now  bid  you 
good-evening." 


CHAPTER  XV. 


AN     INVITATION. 


In  a  week  or  two  it  was  clear  to  the  members 
of  the  phalanstery  the. young  men  with  the 
frock  coats  were  an  unmitigated  success.  "Our 
boys,"  as  lone  called  them,  turned  out  trumps 
in  every  way.  In  spite  of  their  kid  gloves  and 
their  buttonhole  bouquets,  they  weren't  afraid 
of  hard  work,  but  buckled  to  with  a  will  at  the 
rough  jobs  of  the  household.  As  a  rule,  indeed, 
the  joint  mistresses  of  the  flat  saw  little  or  ntJth- 
ing  of  their  amateur  raenservants.  They  went 
to  bed  at  night,  leaving  the  ashes  in  the  grates 


f& 


ise 


UNDER  SEAT^ED  ORDERS. 


and  their  shoes  at  their  doors,  and  woke  in  the 
morning  to  find  everything  cleared  up,  the  rooms 
well  warmed,  and  the  house  swept  and  gar- 
nished, as  if  by  friendly  fairies.  To  be  sure,  this 
ai'rangement  necessitated  the  intrustiog  of  a 
latchkey  to  Mr.  Gardener,  the  head-servant  of 
the  two — a  step  as  to  the  wisdom  and  desirability 
of  which  Sacha  at  first  somewhat  hesitfited.  But 
the  young  men  were  so  modest,  so  good-natui'ed, 
BO  unobtrusive,  and  so  kindly  withal,  that  they 
very  soon  felt  sure  they  were  perfectly  trust- 
worthy. As  Blackbird  remarked,  they  were  too 
simple-hearted  to  make  it  worth  while  sticking 
at  conventions  on  their  account.  Mrs.  Grundy 
was  not  evolved  for  such  as  they  were. 

Still,  though  the  girls  saw  "Our  Boys"  but  at 
rare  intervals,  when  those  willing  slaves  loitered 
late  over  the  fires,  or  when  the  locks  got  out  of 
order,  or  when  the  windows  wanted  cleaning, 
common  gratitude  compelled  them  from  time  to 
time  to  ask  their  benefactors  in  to  afternoon  tea, 
that  mildest  and  most  genial  of  London  enter- 
tainments. The  young  men  themselves,  to  bo 
sure,  protested  with  fervor  that  such  politenesses 
were  unnecessary;  it  was  for  the  sake  of  the 
principle  they  came,  they  said,  not  for  the  sake 
of  the  persons.  Yet  from  a  very  early  period  of 
their  acquaintance  Sacha  fancied  slie  noticed  Mr. 
Henley  Stokes  betraj'ed  a  distinct  liking  for 
Blackbird's  society;  while  Mr.  Gardener  with 
tbe-gardenia  (a  point  of  honor  to  the  last)  paid 
particular  attention,  she  observed,  if  not  to  her- 
self at  least  to  her  pictures.      A  nice,  honest 


-tftiiftriiiiiliilliirfihtr- 


Wyri&tftU(il*lrto 


•*.      r-'AaRe»*'-^i"''t^^^:a(-  - 


V. 


BBS. 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


139 


and  woke  in  the 

dd  up,  the  rooms 

swept  and  gar- 

To  be  sure,  this 

intrusting  of    a 

head-servant  of 

and  desirability 

hesitfited.     But 

io  good-natui'ed, 

vithal,  that  thoy 

perfectly  trust- 

d,  they  were  too 

h  while  sticking 

;.     Mrs.  Grundy 

'  were. 

lur  Boys"  but  at 
ig  slaves  loitered 
locks  got  out  of 
'anted  cleaning, 
em  from  time  to 
to  afternoon  tea, 
E  London  enter- 
liemselves,  to  bo 
mch  politenesses 
:he  sake  of  the 
not  for  the  sake 
y  early  period  of 
she  noticed  Mr. 
binct  liking  for 
Gardener  with 
0  the  last)  paid 
d,  if  not  to  her- 
A  nice,  honest 


I 


young  man,  Mr.  Gardener,  at  least,  and  as 
imlike  as  possible  to  Sacha's  preconceived 
idea  of  the  eternal  and  absolute  typical  stock- 
broker. 

So  she  said  to  herself,  indeed,  one  day,  when 
from  the  recesses  of  Mr.  Gardener's  light  ovor- 
<;oat  hung  up  in  the  hall,  there  tumbled  by  acci- 
dent— a  small  Russia  leather  bound  volume.     Mr. 

« 

Gardener,  with  a  blush,  tried  to  pick  it  up  unob- 
served and  smuggle  it  back  into  its  place  ag^in. 
But  Sacha's  eye  was  too  quick  for  him.  She 
read  in  a  moment  the  gilt  lettering  on  the  back. 
"Why,  it's  poetry!"  she  exclaimed  in  surprise. 
"It's  Keats!    What  do  you  do  with  him?" 

Mr.  Gardener  stammered  like  a  schoolboy  dis- 
covered in  the  flagrant  crime  of  concealing  a  crib. 
"I — er — I  read  him,"  he  answered  after  a  brief 
pause,  with  much  obvious  confusion. 

"In  the  city?"  Sacha  asked  smiling. 

Mr.  Gardener  pluckeii  up  courage  at  her  smile 
to  confess  the  shameful  truth.  "Well,  a  stock- 
broker, you  know,"  he  said,  "has  so  much  time 
hanging  idle  on  his  hands,  when  there's  noth- 
ing going  on  in  his  office;  and  it's  such  an  un- 
satisfactory sort  of  trade  at  the  best ;  and  you 
feel  it  does  you  no  good  either  spiritually  or  phys- 
ically, or  anybody  else  either,  for  the  matter  of 
that;  so  in  the  interests  of  my  work  I  try— er — I 
try  to  develop  as  far  as  I  can  my  own  higher  na- 
ture. And  in  the  mornings,  I  come  here  to  light 
the  fires  and  all  that.  And  in  the  evenings  I  go 
down. to  my  boys  and  girls  at  Stepney." 

"What's  that?"  Sacha  asked  quickly,  catching 


^f 


140 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


the  hint  at  onco.  "I  haven't  heard  about  them 
yet." 

Mr.  Gardener  Icxjked  modest  again.  "Oh,  a 
fellow  must  do  something  you  know,"  ho  said, 
'•just  to  justify  his  existoncse.  And  m  I'm  well 
off,  Hud  strong  and  healthy  and  all  that,  and  so- 
ciety doos  so  much  for  me,  I  feel  bound  in  return 
to  give  a  helping  hand  with  these  pocjr  East  End 
peopio  of  mine— both  in  the  way  of  organization 
and  in  tho  way  uf  amusement." 

Saoha  l(M>ked  at  him  with  some  admimtion. 
There  was  a  sturdy  honep^y  ;>f  purpose  about  this 
modest  young  man  that  touched  her  Russian 
heart  to  tho  core.  And  she  liked  his  reading 
Keats  too;  it  was  a  point  in  his  favor.  For  he 
wasn't  the  least  bit  namby-jnimby  with  it  all 
either,  in  spite  of  his  blushes  and  his  light  kid 
gloves.  She  could  see  when  he  talked  about  his 
gymnasium  at  Stepney  a  few  days  lutor,  that  he 
was  a  tolerable  athlete,  and  he  cleaacd  grates 
and  split  coal—like  no  working  man  in  London. 
When  he  proposed  to  lone  that  she  and  Sacha 
and  Blackbird  should  come  down  to  his  Hall  at 
Stepney  one  evening  to  teach  his  lads  to  dance, 
they  were  all  delighted.  And  wheiuthey  went 
there,  and  found  themselves  among  these  rough 
East  End  young  men,  lone  at  least  thought  it  as 
jolly  good  fun  as  any  Belgravia  ballroom. 

"You  see,  miss,"  her  first  partner  explained  to 
her,  in  a  confidential  undertone,  "Ave  chaps 
learns  this  sort  o'  thing  a  sight  better  from  a 
lady  than  from  our  own  young  women.  Ladies 
doesn't  larf  at  us,  and  a  chap  don't  like  to  be 


tiAt 


BR8. 


tJNDBR  SEALED  ORDERS. 


Ul 


)ard  about  them 

again.  "Oh,  n 
know,"  ho  said, 
A.nd  ivs  I'm  well 
all  that,  and  so- 
bound  in  return 
e  pocjr  East  End 
'  of  organization 

)me  admiiation. 
irpose  about  this 
ed  her  Russian 
ked  his  reading 
i  favor.  For  he 
nby  with  it  all 
m\  his  light  kid 
talked  about  his 
>-8  lutor,  that  he 
>  cleaaod  grates 
man  in  London. 
.t  she  and  Sacha 
'n  to  bis  Hall  at 
:s  lads  to  dance, 
when. they  went 
ong  these  rough 
1st  thought  it  as 
ballroom, 
uer  explfdned  to 
ne,  "we  chaps 
it  better  from  a 
vomen.  Ladled 
don't  like  to  be 


larfed  at.  Our  own  galH,  they  calls  us  'now 
ttion,  clumsy,'  and  all  such  sort  o'  names.  But 
a  lady's  more  patient  like.  You  shows  us  the 
stej*,  and  we  can  pay  more  attention  then,  coz 
we  knows  you  aint  a-larfing  at  us." 

"There's  nothing  to  laugh  at,"  lone  answered 
gravely,  surveying  her  stalwart  young  coster- 
mouger  with  not  unapproving  eyes.  "We  all 
have  to  begin.  I  had  to  hegiu  myself  once. 
And  as  for  laughing,  you  should  have  seen  how 
the  people  laughed  at  mo  over  yonder  in  Mor(»cco 
when  firdt  I  dressed  up  in  Moorish  costume  like 
my  picture  in  the  paper  there,  and  tried  to  ride 
as  a  man  does!  I  laughed  at  myself  for  that 
matter,  till  I  thought  I  should  never  catch  my 
breath  again."  And  sho  smiled  at  him  so  sweet- 
ly that  that  yom.g  costermonger  went  home  per- 
fectly sober  that  night,  and  talketl  to  his  "gal" 
about  the  faces  of  the  angels  in  heaven.  Which 
naturally  made  his  young  woman  jealous,  for 
she  knew  at  once  where  the  unwonted  sugges- 
tion had  come  from. 

So  for  four  or  five  weeks  events  at  the  flat 
went  on  smoothly  enough,  and  Trevor  Gai-dener 
and  Henley  Stokes  grew  gradually  on  the  foot- 
ing of  friends  of  the  family.  They  even  ven- 
tured to  drop  in  of  an  evening,  when  Sacha's 
work  was  done,  and  lone  had  washed  up  the  din- 
ner things,  to  accompany  Blackbird  in  one  of  her 
own  plaintive  songs,  or  to  read  Austin  Dobson 
and  Lang  to  the  assembled  household.  They  in- 
troduced Hope  indeed,  to  the  Ballade  of  Sleep; 
and  th?  poor  girl  spent  at  least  a  dozen  wakeful 


148 


UNDGK  SEALED  ORDERS 


nighta  ia  composing  iipt  miiHic  li)etweon  tho 
ohmging  liourn  for  that  coiigoniul  dirgo  of  dead 
ttnd  buriwi  Bluinber. 

At  tho  oud  of  that  timo,  however^  an  event  oc- 
ourrod  which  Htirrod  the  deep  heart  of  tho  flat  to 
its  iirafoundoHt  reoosHos.  Owoix  ciamo  up  one 
day  from  Moor  Hill,  glad  of  so  good  an  oxcuho 
— with  a  lett(>r  from  Lady  Beaumont,  just  ro- 
coivetl  by  post  at  tho  Red  Cottage. 

So  gracious  a  letter  from  the  county  mem- 
ber's wife  Het  thorn  all  wondering  what  on  earth 
the  great  lady  could  want  with  them. 

"My  dear  Mk.  Oazalkt,"  it  began  ("quite 
affectionate!"  lone  Baid,  si  king  out  her  chest- 
nut locks  round  her  hetu  ly  dear  Mr.  Caza- 
let ! " ) ,  "Sir  Arthur  wishe.  /ery  particul arly 

to  write  and  ask  you  whether  yoU  could  come  up 
to  my  At  Homo  on  -Wednesday  week,,  for  which 
I  inclose  a  card  for  you  and  your  dear  sister. 
Wo  expect  Lord  Gaistor;  and  as  I  know  your 
desire  to  enter  the  Diplomatic  Service,  it  can  do 
you  no  harm  to  make  his  acquaintance  before- 
hand. Several  of  our  artistic  friends  are  so  anx- 
ious to  meet  Sacha  too;  and  that,  as  you  know, 
may  be  of  use  to  her  in  future.  One  should  al- 
ways make  friends  of  the  Mammon  of  Unright- 
eousness, as  represented  on  the  Hanging  Com- 
mittee. And  if  you  could  persuade  her  two 
companions,  Miss  Dracopoli  and  Miss  Braith- 
waite,  to  come  with  you  both,  we  should  be  so 
very  much  obliged  to  you.  Many  of  our  young 
men  want  so  much,  to  know  them.     Apologize 


K-*<'i 


SRH. 

ic  Ixitweou  tho 
il  dirgo  of  (leiul 

rer,  an  event  oc- 
art  of  tho  flat  to 
1  c!!imo  up  imo 
pood  an  excuHo 
turnout,  juBt  ro- 
e. 

B  county  mem- 
g  what  on  earth 
hem. 

;  began  ("quite 
g  out  hor  chest- 
dear  Mr.  Caza- 
ery  particularly 
1  could  come  up 
veeky-for  which 
y-our  dear  sister, 
as  I  know  your 
jrvioe,  it  can  do 
aiiitauce  bef ore- 
ends  are  so  aux- 
;,  as  you  know, 
One  should  al- 
non  of  Unright- 
Hanging  Com- 
rsuade  her  two 
id  Miss  Braith- 
we  should  be  so 
ly  of  our  young 
em.     Apologize 


r^DBR   HBALICD    ORDKRS. 


143 


forme  to  Bacha;  I  would  have  written  to  her 
direct,  but  I  don't  know  tho  addresH  of  this  fam- 
(lUH  joint-stock  flat  of  hers  that  everybcMly's  talk- 
ing about.  It's  made  (}uite  a  sensation  among 
\\w  advanced  woman's  rights  women.  They 
siiy  it  mak(>s  an  epoch. 

**Itj  breathless  haste, 

"  Ifours  very  sincerely, 

"An  AST  ASIA  Beaumont." 

"She  wants  to  lionize  us,"  lone  cried,  looking 
up  with  her  very  unleouine  soft,  round  face, 
"and  I  refuse  to  be  lionized  1" 

"I  never  will  sing  in  houses  wliere  I'm  asked 
ou  purpose,"  little  Blackbird  sail  wearily.  "It's 
a  rudeness  to  ask  one  just  for  what  they  think 
they  can  get  out  of  one.  ' 

"But  what  a  clever  woman  of  the  world  she 
is,"  Sacha  put  in  with  a  wise  smile.  "She 
doesn't  say  a  word  about  what  she  wants,  her- 
self, but  what  she  thinks  will  attract  us  on  the 
ground  of  our  own  interest.  Lord  Caistor  for 
Owen;  possible  patrons  for  me;  admiration  for 
you  two — it's  really  very  sharp  of  her." 

"For  my  part,"  Owen  interposed,  with  a  side 
f^lance  at  lone  in  her  dainty  girlish  beauty,  "I 
think  what  they  want  first  is  the  girl  who  rode 
through  Morocco  alone,  and  second,  to  be  polite 
to  a  possible  future  constituent." 

"The  question  is,  shall  we  go?"  Sacha  asked, 
always  practical.  "Apart  altogether  from  their 
motives,  is  it  worth  omr  while  to  accept,  or  isn't 
it?" 


144 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


"Will  you  £0?"  lone  asked,  turning  point- 
blank  to  Owen. 

Owen  felt  his  heart  throb.  Oh,  Mr.  Hay- 
ward,  Mr.  Hay  ward,  this  girl  will  be  too  much 
tor  you!  "Yes,  I  think  so,"  he  said,  slowly. 
"  ....  To  see  Lord  Caistor." 

"Then  I  think  I'll  go  too,"  lone  answered 
with  a  burst.  "After  all,  it'll  be  fun;  and  I 
love  these  big  crushes.  You  always  find  some- 
body you  can  shock  in  them  somewhere.  If 
I  was  to  go  in  my  Moorish  costume  now — 
just  fanny,  what  a  success!  How  Lady  Beau- 
mont would  bless  me!  It'd  bo  in  all  the 
papers."  ^ 

Owen's  heart  beat  higher  still.  Ho  knew  lone 
wanted  to  go  because  he  would  take  her.  And 
it  luade  him  feel  so  happy — and  so  very,  very 
miserable.  What  would  Mr.  Hayward  say  if 
only  he  knew?  But — is  this  the  metal  of  which 
to  mold  a  revolutionist? 

■^  For  to  Owen,  the  Cause  was  a  very  real  and  a 
very  sacred  thing.  And  he  was  imperiling  its 
future,  ho  knew  but  too  well-  -for  the  sake  of  a 
womaiu 

They  talked  mtich  that  afternoon,  and  h"azarded 
many  guesses,  as  to  why  Lady  Beaumont  [had 
bidden  them  all  to  her  At  Home.  But  not  one 
of  them  came  anywhere  near  the  real  reason  of 
her  invitation.  For  the  truth  was  that  Madame 
Mireff  had  said,  in  the  most  casual  way,  though 
with  a  sudden  magnetic  glance  of  those  great 
luminous  eyes  of  hers,  "I  wish,  Anastasia,  you'd 
ask  that  Sacha  Somebody  when  you  have  me 


>'*)-»4*j<fc»' 


IDBRS. 

d,  turning  point- 

,  Oh,  Mr.  Hay- 
will  be  too  much 
he  aaid,  slowly. 

"  lone  answered 
11  be  fun;  and  I 
ilways  find  eome- 
i  somewhere.  If 
1  costume  now — 
HosV  Lady  Beau- 
i    bo    in    all    the 

11.  He  knew  lone 
Id  take  her.  And 
and  «o  very,  very 
Hayward  say  if 
he  metal  of  which 

1  a  very  real  and  a 
vas  imperiling  its 
-  -for  the  sake  of  a 

lOon,  and  h'azarded 
Ay  Beaumont  [had 
ome.  But  not  one 
the  real  reason  of 
was  that  Madame 
asual  way,  though 
ace  of  those  great 
I,  Anastasia,  you'd 
hen  you  have  me 


1 


f 


UKDXB  SSALBD  ORDEfiS. 


146 


next  at  your  house.  Her  name  puzzles  me  so 
much.  I  want  to  hunt  her  up.  I  must  got  to 
Ihe  bottom  of  it." 


CHAP.  ER  XVI. 

AT  I.ADY  BEAUMONT'S. 

"You've  heard  of  Prince  Ruric  Brassofif,"  Sir 
Arthur  was  half  whispering  to  a  thin  little  lady 
by  his  side,  as  Sacha  wedged  her  way  in  to  an 
unobtrusive  corner;  "the  famous  leader  of  the 
Nihilists,  yct  remember:  five  hundred  thousand 
roubles  set  upon  his  head?  Well,  they  say  she's 
in  England  now  on  purpose  to  ferret  him." 

"And  if  she  found  him?"  the  thin  little  lady 
suggested  in  reply.  "She  couldn't  do  anything 
to  him  here."         •  - 

Sir  Arthur  shrugged  his  shoulders.  It  was  a 
foreign  trick  he'd  picked  up  in  Vienna  w"  u  he 
was  military  attache. 

"Not  openly,"  he  answered,  with  a  dry  little 
laugh.  "But  poison,  perhaps,  or  a  knife — these 
Russians  are  so  unscrupulous." 

Sacha's  calm  eyes  flashed  fire;  for  she  could 
remember  Petersburg  still,  and  her  martyred 
father.  But  she  followed  the  direction  which 
both  their  glances  took,  and  u&vr  a  large-built 
woman  with  very  fully  developei  charms,  who 
was  talking  with  great  animation  and  wide-open 
eyes  to  Lord  Caistor  by  the  mantel-piece.    Sacha 


1 


-^^ 


^Hi 


tm 


146 


UNDER  SBALKD  OBDBRS. 


R- 


had  never  seen  the  Cabinet  Minister  before,  to 
be  sure,  but  she  recognized  him  at  once  from  the 
caricatures  in  Punch  and  the  photographs  in  the 
shop-windows.  Or  at  least,  if  not  the  famous 
man  himself,  there,  at  any  rate,  bfis  still  more 
famous  eyeglass.  As  for  the  lady  who  was  chat- 
ting with  him,  a  flash  of  intuition  told  her,  some- 
how, by  the  aid  of  Sir  Arthur's  words,  it  could 
be  none  other  than  Madame  Mireff,  the  Russian 
spy  or  unaccredited  agent,  currently  believed  to 
exert  so  curious  an  influence  on  Lord  Caistor  him- 
self, and  on  that  mysterious  entity,  his  Foreign 
Policy. 

"The  prince  is  very  rich,  isn't  he?"  the  thin 
little  lady  by  Sir  Arthur's  side  asked  curiously. 

"Was I"  Sir  Arthur  corrected.  "He  had  mil- 
lions at  one  time.  But  he  flung  away  half  his 
fortune  on  the  Cause  years  and  years  ago;  and 
the  other  half  the  Government  vory  wisely  seized 
and  employed  in  suppressing  It." 

"And  is  he  known  to  be  in  England  at  iill?" 
the  thin  little  lady  wont  on,  looking  sidewise  at 
the  presumed  Madame  Mireflf. 

Sir  Arthur  shrugged  his  shoulders  again. 

"How  should  I  know?"  he  answered,  with  a 
laugh.  "Quien  sabe?  Quien  sal'*?  Prince 
Ruric  BrassoflP  takes  jolly  good  care  you  may 
be  sure,  to  keep  well  out  of  the  way.  He  works 
like  a  mole,  underground.  I'm  told,  indeed,  it's 
fifteen  years  since  any  of  his  ow;r>  Nihilist  friends 
even  have  ever  set  eyes  on  him." 

"Then  how  do  they  know  he's  alive?"  the  lady 
asked,  with  languid  interest. 


"■p.«^y?;iMssg»aiWs^tsasSfe?!>it'QB?^^.v 


ERB. 

nister  before,  to 
it  once  from  the 
otographe  in  the 
not  the  famous 
),  bfis  still  more 
y  who  was  chat- 
a  told  her,  some- 
words,  it  could 
•eflf,  the  Russian 
)utly  believed  to 
ord  Caistor  him- 
ity,  his  Foreign 

t  he?"  the  thin 
isked  curiously. 
"Hehadmil- 
;  away  half  his 
years  ago;  and 
ory  wisely  seized 

Ingland  at  iill?" 
cing  sidewise  at 

[dors  again, 
mswered,  with  a 
I  sal-*?  Prince 
i  care  you  may 
way.  He  works 
told,  indeed,  it's 
•>  Nihilist  friends 

alive?"  the  lady 


immmmfifim^ 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


147 


"Ah,  that's  just  the  odd  part  of  it,"  Sir  Arthur 
replied,  still  gazing  across  at  the  stranger  with 
the  big,  speaking  eyes.  "They  say,  though  no- 
body ever  sees  him,  he's  still  the  active  head  of 
Jill  the  party  in  Western  Europe;  and  the  Rus- 
sian Government  has  constantly  of  late  years 
intercepted  letters  and  documents  signed  in  his 
handwriting.  But  if  he's  to  lie  found  at  all, 
you  may  be  perfectly  sure  Madame  Mireff  will 
find  him.  She's  keen  as  a  bloodhound,  persistent 
as  a  beagle.     She's  clever  enough  for  anything." 

Sacha  rose  and  moved  imobtrusively  across  the 
room  to  Owen,  who  was  standing  with  lone  near 
the  doorway,  in  the  opposite  corner.  She  uad 
just  time  to  murmur  low  to  him  in  Russian: 
"Owen,  beware  of  the  woman  who's  talking  there 
to  Lord  Caistor.  She's  a  spy  of  the  Czar's.  She's 
come  over  here  to  look  out  for  some  Nihilist  refu- 
gee." And  even  as  the  words  escaped  her  lips, 
Lady  Beaumont  sidled  across  to  her. 

"Oh,  Sacha,  my  child,"  she  sal  1,  quite  aflfeo- 
tionately,  taking  her  hand  with  much  warmth, 
like  a  good  society  hostess,  *'I'm  so  glad  you've 
come.  There's  a  friend  of  mine  here  who's  just 
dying  to  know  you.  And  you've  brought  Miss 
Dracopoli,  too,  I  see.  I  recognize  you.  Miss 
Dracopoli,  by  your  likeness  in  the  Qraphic. 
How  good  of  you  to  came  round  to  my  little 
gathering  t  I  know  you're  so  much  engaged — 
everybody's  fighting  for  you  just  at  present,  of 
course — the  tail-end  of  the  season !  .  Come  over 
this  way  with  me,  and  I'll  introduce  you  to  Lord 
Caistor.    And  you  must  come,  too,  Owen.    Mad- 


■.^1 


UNDKR  SBALBD  ORDBBS. 

ame  Mireflf — one  moment — excuse  my  interrupt- 
ing you.  This  is  the  clever  young  artist  whose 
picture  you  admired  so  much  at  the  Academy 
the  other  day— Miss  Cazalet,  Mr.  Cazalet." 

Owen  bowed  low,  with  an  nwkward  feeling  of 
unwonted  restraint.  Never  before  in  his  life  had 
he  stood  face  to  face  with  an  avowed  enemy  of 
the  Cause — one  of  the  bureaucratic  ring;  and 
be  felt  at  once  the  novelty  and  diflSculty  of  the 
position.  As  for  Sacha,  she  held  herself  very 
erect  and  proud,  hardly  nodding  her  head;  but 
her  breath  came  and  went,  and  her  face  flashed 
crimson. 

"I'm  glad  ....  my  work  ....  interested 
you,"  she  said  with  an  evident  effort.  She'd 
have  given  millions  to  get  away.  The  strain 
and  stress  of  it  was  horrible. 

But  Madame  Mireff  only  Ijeamed  upon  her 
vrith  those  famous  soft  eyes,  and  said,  with  real 
kindness  of  tone :      - 

"Yes,  it  was  beautiful,  beautiful.  I  picked  it 
out  ai  once  from  all  the  pictures  in  the  room.  It 
had  soul  in  it— soul  in  it.  It  went  straight  to 
my  Russian  heart — for  you  know,  Miss  Cazalet, 
I'm  before  all  things  a  Russian.  And  everything 
about  Russia  always  thrills  me  to  the  finger-tips. 
"We  Slavs  feel  the  magic  of  our  common  Sla- 
vonic ancestry  far  more,  I  believe,  than  any 
Western  people.  Russia  holds  us  by  some  spell. 
Cela  nous  entraine.     Cela  nous  fascine." 

Owen  opened  his  eyes  wide  at  this  unexpected 
profession  of  faith— the  enthusiasm  with  which 
madame  spoke  reminded  him  so  exac'Jy  of  Mr. 


^/ 


■Wi: 


DKRS. 


use  my  interrupt- 
oung  artist  whose 
at  the  Academy 
[r.  Cazalet." 
vkward  feeling  of 
fore  ia  his  life  had 
avowed  enemy  of 
acratic  ring;  and 
1  diflSculty  of  the 
held  herself  very 
Qg  her  head;  but 
[  her  face  flashed 

....  interested 
nnt  effort.  She'd 
way.     The  straiti 

Ijeamed  upon  her 
tnd  said,  with  real 

itiful.  I  picked  it 
88  in  the  room.  It 
t  went  straight  to 
low,  Miss  Cazalet, 
And  everything 
)  to  the  finger-tips, 
our  common  Sla- 
believe,  than  any 
>  us  by  some  spell. 
>MS  fascine." 
at  this  unexpected 
isiasm  with  which 
;  so  exac'Jy  of  "Mr. 


J-  v  •»  '* 


lfo-£'!»w.'/ 


'fr/ 


■,^  . 


UNDER  SEAIiRD  ORDERS. 


149 


Hayward's  own  in  his  moments  of  deepest  pa- 
triotic fervor.  Was  it  possible,  then,  that  these 
bureaucrats  even — the  despots,  the  enemy —shared 
that  same  unquenchable  Slavonic  zeal  that  burned 
bright  like  a  fire  in  the  friends  ot  the  Cause — the 
lovers  of  their  country? 

But  Sacha  only  answered  coldly,  in  her  very 
dryest  voice:  ^  ,* - 

"I  fail  to  perceive  the  connection  you  draw 
between  my  picture  and  Russia." 

Madame  glanced  back  at  her,  all  motherliness, 
with  kind,  melting  eyes,  in  spite  of  this  first  re- 
buff.    Her  glance  was  mesmeric. 

"Why,  surely,"  she  said,  oxerting  every  spell 
she  knew,  "the  spirit,  at  least,  the  spirit  is  pure 
Russian.  I  cried  out  to  Lady  Beaunpiont  the  mo- 
ment I  saw  it:  'There's  Slav  in  that  canvas!' 
and  Lady  Beaumont  answered  me:  'Oh,  that's 
Sacha  Cazalet's  picture.''  So  when  I  heard 
your  name  was  Sacha,  of  course  I  took  it  for 
granted  at  once  your  mother  at  least  must  have 
been  more  or  less  of  a  Russian." 

"You're  mistaken,"  Sacha  replied,  in  the  same 
hard,  dry  tone.  "My  mother,  on  the  cor*,rary, 
was  a  pure-blooded  Englishwoman." 

"Your  father,  then?"  madame  suggested, 
quickly. 

Sacha  parried  the  blow  at  once. 

* '  Really, ' '  she  said,  ' '  I  don't  admit  my  genea- 
logical tree  has  anything  at  all  to  do  with  my 
picture." 

Madame  left  the  false  track  sharply  with  a 
diplomatist's  instinct.         _ 


^ 


160 


UNDKR   SEALED  ORDERS. 


"Well,  the  painting's  a  lovely  one,  at  any 
rate,"  she  said,  sweetly;  "au,'  the  qualities  in 
it  that  struck  me  as  Slavonic  are  at  least  quali- 
ties of  high  idealism  and  profound  moral  truth. 
Whatever  race  inspires  them,  one  surely  can't 
Belp  admiring  those,  Miss  Cazalet.  There's  u 
freedom,  a  gracefulnegs,  a  vitality,  an  uncou- 
ventionality  abc  -  tiie  lithe  figures  of  your  beauti- 
ful classical  girls  that  took  my  fancy  immensely. 
And  Aspasia  herself —in  the  center — what  a  soul- 
fill  conception !  So  vivid  and  intense !  Like  our 
b"-t  Russian  girls  nowadays — free  as  the  air; 
kee.i  as  the  wind ;  fresh  as  the  morning  dew ;  yet 
capable,  one  could  feel,  of  yielding  her  life  like 
water  to  any  good  cause  that  in  after  days  might 
demand  it." 

Owen  listened  astonished.  The  voice  was  the 
same,  though  the  words  were  so  different.  Was 
this  the  true  Russian  note,  then?  La  vi^  pour 
le  Tsar  or  Death  for  Freedom! 

Madame  drew  a  vacant  chair  to  her  side  and 
motioned  Sacha  into  it.  A^inst  her  will,  as  if 
drawn  by  some  spell,  Sacha  sat  down,  burning 
inwardly.  Owen  stood  by,  in  his  big  manliness, 
and  bent  over  them,  listening.  Then  madame 
began  laying  herself  out,  as  only  a  trained  diplo- 
mati.'jt  and  woman  of  the  world  could  have  done 
to  make  a  conquest  of  Sacha.  By  slow  degrees 
she  led  round  the  conversation  to  Saoha's  art  and 
her  friends.  She  discussed  lone  with  Owen, 
praising  her  beauty  enthusiastically ;  she  dis- 
cussed Burne-Joi^es  with  Sacha,  finding  some 
thing  in  common  between  the  profounder  Celtic 


■  t"^^] 


VfSS». 

ely  one,  at  any 
the  qualities  in 
ire  at  least  quali- 
mil  moral  truth, 
one  surely  can't 
zalet.  There's  a 
ality,  an  uncou- 
•es  of  your  beauti- 
fancy  immensely, 
iter — vfhatasoul- 
ttense !  Like  our 
-free  as  the  air; 
aorning  dew ;  yet 
ding  her  life  like 
after  days  might 

rhe  voice  was  the 
5  different.  Was 
n?    La  vid  pour 

.1  • 

r  to  her  side  and 
nst  her  will,  as  if 
at  down,  burning 
lis  big  manliness, 
'.  Then  madame 
ly  a  trained  diplo- 
1  could  have  done 
By  slow  degrees 
to  Saoha's  art  and 
[one  with  Owen, 
jtically ;  she  dis- 
bia,  finding  some- 
profounder  Celtic 


-"■2»j-..^?f"?'iS>,'' 


UNDBB  SBALBD  OKDER8. 


161 


I 


and  Slavonic  temperaments.  Gradually,  bit  by 
bit,  even  Sacha  gave  way.  She  admitted  the 
fascination  of  the  woman  who  had  talked  over 
Lord  Caistor  and  changed  a  Foreign  Policy. 
Her  conversation  was  so  easy,  so  alluring,  so 
simpatica.  As  for  Owen,  he  bent  over  her, 
entranced,  feeling  the  nameless  attraction  to  a 
lad  of  a  ripe  woman  of  the  w^orld,  ready  and 
willing  to  deploj^all  her  manifold  charms  of  body 
and  mind  in  one  serried  phalanx  for  his  momen- 
tary captivatiou.  lone  glanced  across  once  or 
twice  from  her  artlessly  girlish  self -revelation  to 
that  amused  Lord  Caistor,  and  felt  her  heart  give 
a  jump  of  doubt  and  fear  within  her.  That  hor- 
rid g^at  Russian  woman  with  the  big,  staring 
eyes  was  surely  too  much  for  any  lad  of  twenty  I 
What  struck  OWen  more  and  more,  however, 
tlie  more  freely  madame  talked,  was  the  absolute 
identity  (in  fiber)  of  her  Ruse^'^n  enthusiasm  with 
Mr.  Hayward's.  Though  the  Russia  of  which 
she  spoke  was  the  Russia  of  the  tyraifts,  yet  the 
devotion  with  which  she  spoke  of  it  ^vas  the  de- 
votion of  the  patriots.  It  was  C?;arc  ad  ISmpress 
against  Land  and  People.  For  the  first  time  in 
his  life  it  dawned  uptm  Owei  fainiiy  that  what 
he  had  here  to  deal  with  was  in  essence  a  tempera- 
ment. Madame  Mireff  and  Mr.  Hayward  saw 
the  opposite  sides  of  the  same  shield,  according 
to  their  different  fronts  of  view,  but  were  both 
equally  vehement  and  intense  in  the  idea  they 
formed  of  it.  That's  Russia  all  over.  Your 
Slav  is,  above  all  things,  a  dreamer  and  an 
enthusiast. 


i*-'., 


1^ 


1S3 


UNDKR  8KALBD  ORIMBR8. 


At  last,  after  much  long  and  cleverly-guided 
diBCourBe,  inudame  had  Hiicceeded  in  making  even 
Sacha  herself  admit  grudgingly  in  her  own  mind 
that  the  Czar's  spy,  in  her  private  capacity,  at 
apy  rate,  was  an  extremely  agreeable,  nay,  well- 
meaning  person.  She  had  a  rare  gift  of  insinu- 
ating herself  into  your  confidence,  somehow;  of 
taking  such  a  deep  interest  in  your  mind  and 
your  feelings  that  you  couldn't  help  warminjj 
up  in  the  end  into  some  responsive  expansivoncss. 
Then,  suddenly,  in  the  midst  of  her  easy-going 
talk,  madame  turned  round  to  her  and  fixed  her 
with  her  glittering  eye. 

"In  fact,"  she  said,  jMsuncing  upon  her  with  a 
strange  foreign  tongue,  "as  our  itussian  proverb 
puts  it,  'The  smooth-worn  stone  on  the  river's 
bed  can  never  understand  why  the  pebbles  on  the 
bank  find  the  sun's  heat  unpleasant.'  " 

She  said  it  in  Russian,  as  if  she  expected  to  be 
understood ;  and  even  as  she  uttered  tho  words, 
she  fixed  her  piercing  glance,  full  of  in(|uiry,  on 
Sacha's  face.  Owen  bent  over,  still  more  atten- 
tive, wondering  whether,  thus  attacked  by  so  un- 
expected a  flank  movement,  Sacha — that  calm, 
imperturbable  Sacha — would  be  taken  oflF  her 
guard  or  not.  But  the  phlegmatic  Slavonic 
temperament,  almost  Oriental  in  its  passivity, 
stood  her  there  in  good  stead.  Sacha  never 
moved  a  muscle  of  her  quiet  face,  or  changed 
color  for  a  second. 

"What  does  that  mean?"  she  asked,  languidly. 
"Will  you  kindly  translate  for  us?  As  yet,  thank 
Heaven,  Russian  isnH  added  to  German  and 


'■■,^--  ■'^■' 


>i;r8. 


UNDKR  SEALED  ORDERS. 


163 


I  cleverly-guided 
din  making  even 
in  her  own  mind 
vtite  capacity,  at 
>eable,  nay,  well- 
re  gift  of  inginu- 
ice,  somehow;  of 
i  your  mind  and 
I't  help  warming 
ve  expanbivpness. 
f  her  easy-going 
her  and  fixed  her 

;  upon  her  with  a 
'  Russian  proverb 
le  on  the  river's 
he  pebbles  on  the 
sant'  " 

the  expected  to  be 
ttered  tho  words, 
ull  of  incjuiry,  on 
,  still  more  atten- 
ittacked  by  so  un- 
acha — that  calm, 
be  ta^en  off  her 
gmatic    Slavonic 

in  its  pHssivity, 
i.      Sacha  never 

face,  or  changed 

asked,  languidly. 

IB?  As  yet,  thank 

to  German  and 


I 


' 


French  as  a  necessary  part  of  an  English  girl's 
idueation." 

Madame 's  keen  eye  still  rested  on  her  like  a 
Imwk's.     She  translated  it— wrong. 

"The  polar  bear  xvonders  the  grizzly  should 
think  hia  climate  coid,"  she  answered,  with  a 
hlttud  smile  of  childlike  innocence.  But  even  so, 
Sacha  gave  no  sign.  Just  the  faintest  tinge  of 
ii  cantemptnous  curl  at  the  corner  of  her  mouth 
iilone  betrayed,  if  at  all,  her  consciousness  of  the 
attempted  deception. 

"Very  true,"  she  said,  calmly.  "We  can  only 
sympathize  to  the  full  with  the  iioublt«  and  joys 
we've  ourselves  experienced." 

Madame  gave  it  up  again  for  the  present.  This 
girl  was  too  deep  for  her.  It  was  only  at  the  end 
of  the  evening,  after  talking  to  many  other  of  her 
willing  slaves  meanwhile,  that  the  unaccredited 
agent  returned  to  the  Cazalets  with  a  charming 
smile  and  an  outstretched  hand. 

"Well,  good-night,"  she  said.  "An  revoir, 
that  is — for  I  must  meet  you  again.  You  remind 
me  S3  of  dear  friends — dear  friends  of  mine  in 
lluasia.  And  your  brother — when  I  saw  him, 
it  gave  me  quite  a  little  start.  .  .  .  He's  so  ex- 
traordinarily like  poor  SergiusSelistoff  of  Peters- 
burg." 

It  was  a  sharp  home-thrust — their  own  father's 
name ! — but  Owen  hoped  he'd  avoided  it.  He 
blushed  and  bowed.  A  young  man  may  fairly 
blush  when  his  personal  app.  ^rpuce  is  under 
disouffiion. 

•Mm  revoir,  then,'*  he  said,  as  frankly  and 


'■■Wi'.  •  H-f'iAw; 


Uk 


154 


Uira>RR  SBALKD  ORDERlt. 


^■ 


unconcernedly  as  he  was  ubie.     "It'H  su  kind  uf 
you  to  put  it  BO." 

Ah  they  wont  home  to  the  flat  in  the  cab,  an 
unwonted  silence  opprewsed  lonii.  Hiw  said  noth- 
ing far  a  lung  time;  then  at  last  she  oliHerved, 
with  much  seeming  insoucianre: 

"What  fi,  talk  you  had,  Owen,  with  that  fat 
Madame  Mireft'!  She's  handsume,  too,  isn't  sbf 
— even  now  I  Must  have  been  beautiful  whpii 
she  was  young!  And  what  oyen  she  made  at 
you,  and  how  she  stuck  to  you  like  a  k>ech !  It's 
a  groat  thing  to  be  six  ieet  two — in  Russia— ap- 
parently!" 

But  at  that  self-stimo  moment  Lady  Beaumont, 
wearied  out  with  the  duties  of  her  post,  was  say- 
ing, with  a  yawn  to  lior  friend  in  the  empty 
<lrawing-room : 

"Well,  Olgn,  I  lioix)  you  found  out  what  you 
wanted?" 

And  Madame  Mireff  made  answer : 

' '  Part,  at  least .  I"'^ot  qui te  al  1 .  That  is  to  say , 
not  for  certain.  They're  Russian,  of  course;  as 
Russian  as  they  can  stand ;  but  whether  they're 
the  particular  i)eople  I  imagine  or  not,  I  don't 
feel  quite  sure  just  yet.  I  must  make  further 
inquiries." 

"You  won't  get  them  wnt  to  Siberia^  I  trust!*' 
Lady  Beaumont  said,  half  seriously.  For  she 
rather  liked  that  big,  hand.Home  Owen. 

Madame  drew  back  a  .step  and  surveyed  her 
from  head  to  foot  with  a  sort  of  innocent  surprise. 
"Siberia!"  she  repeated.  "Siberia!  Oh,  dent, 
that  odious  calumny!    That  ridiculous  miscon- 


M: 


■'■■Vimffmwff-.i- 


9VBB, 

"It's  BO  kind  of 

at  in  the  cab,  an 
.  8ho  said  noth- 
st  she  ol)served, 
e: 

en,  with  that  fat 
me,  too,  isn't  she 
I  beautiful  when 
ytw  she  made  at 
like  a  U>ech !  It's 
< — in  RusHia—  ap- 

Lady  Beaumont, 
ler  p«jBt,  was  «iy- 
ttd  in  the  empty 

ind  out  what  you 

iswer : 

I.  That  is  to  say, 
[an,  of  course;  as 
S  whether  they're 
,6  or  not,  I  don't 
ust  make  further 

Siberia,  I  trust!" 
■iously.  For  she 
)  Owen. 

and  surveyed  her 
innocent  surprise, 
beria!  Oh,  dear, 
idiculous  miscon- 


>«»• 


UMDEU  BBALKD  ORDERS. 


ccption!  Must  I  exphiin  it  every  day?  Will 
\  uii  never  understand  us?  Siberia  is  to  Russia 
what  Botany  Bay  wtus  once  t<>  England.  We 
sand  our  iTiminals  there.  It's  a  jHjnal  settle- 
ment, not  a  Bastille  nor  place  of  exile  lOr  piliti- 
i.al  otfouders.  But  you  English  will  never  givo 
us  credit  fi)r  any  good  of  any  sort — never,  never, 
jiover.  That's  your  thick-headed  Toutonism, 
my  dear.  The  Fn  nch  have  more  esprit.  .They 
nee  through  all  that  hl(i<jnt'.  1  assure  you.  An- 
.■latasia,  I  might  just  as  well  ask  you  not  to  let 
Lord  Caistor  send  me  without  reason  assigned  to 
Ponton villo  or  to  Portland." 


CK AFTER  XVII. 

IN  THE    COUK8E    OF   BUSINESS. 

Mu.  Haywakd  smiled  inwardly  when,  a  day 
or  two  later,  he  received  a  formal  note,  couched 
in  the  third  person,  stating  that  Madame  MireiT 
would  be  much  obliged  if  Messrs.  Mortimer  & 
Co.  would  kindly  appoint  an  hour,  between 
(doven  and  one  on  Monday  morning  next,  for 
her  to  sit  for  her  photograph.  What  an  amus- 
ing rencontre,  to  be  sure,  between  those  two  in 
such  a  relation !  It  would  interest  him  to  watcli 
how  madame  was  1  )ing  her  work,  and  what 
presence  of  mind  aixe  might  display  under  pecul- 
iar circumstances. 

He  had  heard,  of  course,  from  Owen  of  ma- 


166 


VKDER  8KALRD  ORDKRB. 


dftme'smeotinK  with  the  Caziiletii  at  Lmly  Beau- 
mont's; and  hiK  firat  remark  to  hiH  yomig  friend, 
wlion  Owon  mtmtioned  their  interview,  whh  u 
fervent  excluniation,  "I  hoiw  you  didn't  betray 
any  rej)ugnauce  to  her  at  tirst  night,  a«  one  of 
the  tyrant'n  iuHtrunientrt !  that's  immenwely  ini 
portant.  You  must  learn,  above  all  thiugH, 
Owen,  wheu  you  come  to  mix  with  that  hatofid 
workl,  to  supprosH  all  overt  Higiw  of  the  repul- 
sion it  liegets  in  you." 

"I  don't  think  I  did,  Mr.  Hayward,"  Owen 
answered  trothfiilly.  "In  fact,  1  rather  flatttsr 
myself  T  umnaKwd  to  keep  my  feelings  perfectly 
und  ontrol.  My  fjvct  was  a  mask.  And  be- 
sidi:  ,  she  talked  so  nitu'iy,  and  seeme<l  in  many 
ways  so  Russian,  that  to  some  extent,  after  ii 
time — it  may  have  been  very  wrong;  but,  do 
you  know  I  almost  liked  lii«r." 

Mr.  Hayward's  brow  darkened  a  little.  Thin 
was  bad  hearing  in  its  way.  Had  he  succumbed 
80  readily?  "She's  ;.,  very  insinuating  woman," 
he  murmured  in  reply;  "and  oi  that  aocount 
the  more  dangerous.  Remember  jdways,  in  this 
world  the  influence  of  women  is  a  thing  every 
noble  cause  has  to  fight  against  strenuously.  I 
don't  say  they're  always  banded  against  every 
good  thing;  our  own  society  has  received  some 
of  its  greatest  aids  from  the  devotion,  the  hero- 
ism, the  self-sacrifice  of  women.  In  their  place, 
they  count  for  much.  But  still,  they're  a  dis- 
turbing element  in  many  ways,  Owen ;  a  disturb- 
ing element.  Often,  they  undermine  principles 
that  nothing  else  on  earth  could  conceivably  un- 


Kiitiitetf 


rirrrnwirYif'ri- —  :-. 


'■ffmmi<fim!0m"-r'v?!mm-mm6tmm»tf^¥mfmfiiffri:^i^- 


u^iSi^'i 


>KR8. 

tn  at  Lmly  Beau- 
UH  youiiff  friend, 
interview,  wbh  u 
'■oil  didn't  betmy 
i  Hi((ht,  RH  one  of 
s  imnienHely  ini- 
bnve  all  thiii^, 
with  that  hatefid 
tifUH  of  the  repul- 

[aywnrd,"  Owen 
i,  I  rather  flatttsr 
feelings  perfectly 
mask.  And  be- 
1  aeenie<l  in  many 
le  extent,  after  u 
wrong;   but,  do 

e<l  a  little.  Thiw 
ad  ho  succumbed 
mating  woman," 
i)v  thiit  auoouui> 
er  alwiiys,  in  this 
iH  a  Ihing  every 
it  strenuously.  I 
ed  against  every 
las  received  some 
evotion,  the  hero- 
.  In  their  place, 
ill,  they're  a  dis- 
Owen ;  a  disturb- 
ermiue  principles 
i  conceivably  un- 


wifiiF 


UNDER  HBAI.RD  ORDRR8.     " 


167 


dermine.  You  know,  my  boy,  T  don't  mean  to 
preach  to  you;  1  was  never  a  iiiinibug;  and,  m 
always,  I  pn»fer  to  lot  your  individuality  have 
free  play  for  itself.  But  if  ever  you  see  auythiug 
more  of  Mmlamo  Olgii  Miretf,  I  would  say  to 
you  HH  a  friend,  reganling  you  now  nn  a  fellow- 
workor  and  onthuHiast  for  the  Causo,  my  advice 
in  just  this— keep  clear  of  entanglements,  were 
it  for  practice' stike  only.  Don't  begin  letting 
women  twist  you  once  round  their  tingers.  The 
habit  of  yielding  to  them  grows  with  indulgence; 
it's  instinctive  in  our  virility,  from  Adam  down- 
ward. Even  Samson  gave  way;  and  his  sto- 
ry's a  parable  of  the  Strong  Man  for  all  time. 
What  no  force  can  overcome,  no  hostilo  power 
destroy,  a  woman's  will  cfin  got  over  all  too 
easily.  .  .  .  And  now,  are  you  going  back  this 
afternoon  to  the  Red  Cottage?" 

Owen  blushed  as  he  answered,  with  transpar- 
ent truthfulness,  "Yes;  but  I'm  going  first  to 
take  tea  at  the  flat  with  lone  and  Sacha." 

Mr.  Hayward  hold  his  peace.  That  ill  was 
too  deep  for  words— a  harm  no  preacher  could 
heal.  He  could  only  hoi)e  and  wish  Owen  might 
be  delivered  from  so  great  a  temptation.  After 
ull,  individualism  must  have  the  fullest  scope. 
We  can  but  guide  and  direct.  "And  we  Nihil- 
ists at  least,"  ho  thought  to  himself  with  a  stifled 
sigh,  "have  no  ground  to  go  upon  if  wo  are  not 
in  all  things  consistent  individualists." 

So  at  the  appointed  hour  when  Madame  Mireff 
was  to  visit  the  studio,  Mr.  Haywartl,  already 
divining  the  cause  of  her  visit,  and  too  confident 


'■'%^ 


.*■■' 


1% 


y   .■!» 


158 


UNDER  SFl'^an  ORDERi. 


i^  • 


!'#-- 


m 


& 


of  hid  own  strength  not  to  disdain  weak  subter- 
fuges, made  tlie  running  easy  for  her  by  sotting 
out  on  iiis  table  three  cr  four  of  nie  Morocoo 
vio'.v.*,  with  Owen  conspicuously  posed  as  an  ac- 
cessory in  the  foreground. 

Madame  Mireff  arrived  to  the  minute,  and  was 
shown  up  at  once,  via  the  lift,  to  the  upper  cham- 
ber, very  high  and  glass  roofed,  where  Mr.  Hay- 
ward  presided  over  the  mysteries  of  his  art,  as 
Morlimer  &  Co.,  of  Bond  Street. 

They  took  a  good  stare  at  one  another,  those 
two,  as  a  preliminary  investigation,  each  noting 
many  small  points  in  the  other's  external  char- 
acteristics, before  either  spoke.  Then  Madame 
Mireff  St*;:^  sharply,  "Are  you  Mr.  Mortimer 
himself  V  because  I  want  this  photograph  to  be 
particularly  good — and  if  it's  a  success,  you  can 
expose  copies  of  it  for  sale  in  the  shop  windows." 

She  was  enough  of  a  celbbrity  to  venture  upon 
that  bribe.  All  London  was  talking  just  then 
of  the  beautiful  cunning  Russian,  and  her  mys- 
terious influence  over  Lord  Caistor's  policy. 

Mr.  Hay  ward  smiled  a  quiet  smile  of  superior 
knowledge  as  hd  answered  with  something  of  his 
grand  society  manner,  "I  am  the  nearest  approach 
to  Mr.  Mortimer  that  exists.  I'm  the'head  of 
the  firm.  But  it's  a  trade  name  only.  There's 
no  Mortimor  now  in  the  concern  at  all.  My 
name  ie  Lambert  Hayward.  I'll  take  your  por- 
trait myself,  if  you'll  bo  good  enough  to  sit  down 
there,"  waving  her  with  one  lowly  sweep  of  hie 
left  hand  into  a  vacant  chair,  "And  what's 
more,  it'll  be  taken  just  fifty  times  better  than 


flStw.aiSS&.'rV^^m?' 


m. 

n  weak  subter- 

her  bj-^  8(3ttiug 

>f  .lie  Morocco 

posed  a3  an  ac- 

inute,  and  was 
10  upper  chara- 
here  Mr.  Hay- 
8  of  his  art,  as 

another,  those 
)n,  each  noting 

external  cliar- 
Theu  Madame 

Mr.  Mortimer 
otograph  to  be 
iccess,  you  can 
liop  windows." 
o  venture  upon 
king  just  then 
I,  and  lier  mys- 
)r'8  policy, 
lilo  of  superior 
>mething  of  his 
earest  approach 
ni  the 'head  of 
only.  There's 
■n  at  all.     My 

take  your  por- 
igh  to  sit  down 
ly  sweep  of  hie 

"And  what's 
aes  better  than 


-WvWir'-'^-'f^-Ti'',*,^' 


UNDER  SEALED  OKDERS. 


1«9 


any  other    photographer   in   London  can  take 

it." 

Even  Madame  Mireff  was  half  overawed  by 
the  imposing  dignity  of  his  presence.  Such  an 
operator  as  this  she  had  never  before  seen.  She 
seated  herself  passively  in  the  chair,  and  let  him 
pose  her  as  he  would  witb  his  stately  courtesy. 
Mr.  Hay  ward  arranged  her  handq  and  her  drap- 
eries with  self-respecting  deference  as  a  court 
painter  of  noble  birth  might  arrange  the  attire 
of  an  empress  who  was  sitting  to  him.  "Now, 
a  thought  more  to  the  left,"  he  said  at  iast, 
drawing  a  screen  on  the  glazed  roof  over  her 
head  so  as  to  let  a  pensive  light  fall  delicately 
on  that  too  exuberant  bust — for  hu  had  a  true 
artist's  eye  for  effects  of  light;  "look  about  hei-e; 
that  will  do!  ha,  so— exactly.  I'm  venturing  to 
pr>se  you  now,  first  as  Madame  Mireff,  the  diplo- 
matist, the  dame  de  la  Haute  politique,  the 
friend  and  ally  of  embassadors.  You  look  it  to 
perfection.  After  that,  I'll  try  to  catch  you  na 
Madame  Mireff,  the  leader  of  gay  society  in 
Petersburg;  and  then  as  Madame  Mireff— the 
dreamer,  the  enthusiast. " 

At  the  last  words  Madame's  expression  altered 
slightly— and,  quick  as  lightning,  Mr.  Hayward 
withdrew  the  cap  and  then  shortly  replaced  it 
again.  "That  wan  j»»t  what  I  wanted,"  he 
said,  a  little  triumphant:  "that  intrtguee  ex- 
pression, as  of  one  searching  in  spirit  the  expla- 
nation of  an  enigma  It'iis  so  you  must  look, 
madame,  when  you  play  <*ie  higJi  game  of  diplo- 
macy with  our  guileless  Itojflish  Mtateemen — keen 


M 


1 


;>; 


160 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS 


to  detect  their  weak  points,  quick  to  scent  the  ap- 
proach of  any  dangerous  topic.  That's  why  I 
said  to  you  just  then  the  word — enthusiast.  It 
was  to  make  you  wonder  how  a  photographer 
in  a  Bond  Street  shop  ever  came  to  suspect  such 
a  trait  in  your  complex  character." 

Madame  looked  up  this  time  in  naive  surprise. 
The  assistant  meanwhile  had  slipped  in  another 
plate.  "There,  so,"  Mr.  Hayvvard  cried  again, 
lifting  one  warning  little  finger.  "Don't  alter  a 
muscle,  a  thought !  Don't  stir,  please,  or  change 
expression  I— Ha,  capital,  capital!  That's  the 
bland  childlike  smile  of  the  perfect  hostess.  It's 
as  you  must  have  looked  in  the  Governor's  palace 
at  Tifiis.  Now,  again,  please.  Head  thrown 
back  a  little  more !  Eyes  looking  up— yes,  there. 
Less  of  the  figure  this  time !  More  of  the  face 
and  the  neck !  Think  of  Russia,  and  the  cause 
you  have  nearest  at  heart  in  your  country.  Think 
of  the  Slavonic  enthusiasm  of  your  earliest 
dreams!  Think  of  your  Czar,  of  your^ Empress ! 
Forget  yourself — and  me — and  this  murky  Lon- 
don. Go  back  to  Petersburg  in  your  own  soul— 
BO — to  Moscow— to  Novgorod!" 

Madame  sighed  half  involuntarily.  What  did 
he  know  oi  the  cause  she  loved  really  be^?  And 
if  he  knew  what  would  he  think  of  it,  that  cold, 
unsympathetic  Euglishma-n.  The  thought  re- 
flected itself  in  her  face— and  like  an  electric 
flash,  Mr.  Hay  ward  fixed  it!  He  replaced  the 
cap  with  the  sense  of  a  work  well  performed. 
"There,  we  have  the  three  Madame  Mireffs,"  he 
said,  stepping  back  and  releasing  her:  "politi- 


scent  the  ap- 
That's  why  I 
Dithusiust.  It 
photographer 

>  suspect  such 

aive  surprise. 
(6(1  in  another 
1  cried  again, 
•Don't  alter  a 
tise,  or  change 
That's  the 
hostess.  It's 
ernor'c  palace 
Head  thrown 
ip — yes,  there, 
tre  of  the  face 
md  the  cause 
mtry.  Think 
your  earliest 
'our'  Empress ! 
8  murky  Lon- 
ur  own  soul — 

y.  What  did 
y  be^?  And 
E  it,  that  cold, 

>  thought  re- 
te  an  electric 
I  replaced  the 
}11  performed, 
e  Mireffs,"  he 

her:  "politi- 


UNDER  SEAI.BD  ORDERS. 


161 


cian ;  grande  dame;  self-effacing  patriot.  And 
all,  as  you  see,  in  rather  less  than  ten  minutes!" 
Madame  let  her  breath  go  free  after  the  suspense 
of  the  sitting.  What  a  curious  man  ho  was,  to 
be  sure,  this  photographer!  Even  she  felt  half 
if  raid  rif>w  to  tackle  him  about  Sacha  and  Owen. 
He  seen. 'd  to  see  through  her  so — touched  such 
chords  (-  >  easily !  She  talked .  for  a  minute  or 
two  witJi  him  ou  neutral  subjects;  then  in  a  cas- 
ual way  she  moved  over  to  the  table.  As  her 
eye  fell  on  Owen  in  the  Atlas  group,  she  gave 
as  almost  impci'ceptiblo  start;  but  Mr.  Hay  ward 
noted  it — noted,  too,  that  she  should  have  been 
proof  against  s'.  h  a  betrayal  of  her  feelings — 
and  remembered  it  afterward. 
•^  "Why,  that's  young  Cazalet:"  she  cried,  draw- 
ing back.     "Owen  Cazalet!     I  know  him." 

"Madame  knows  everybody,"  Mr.  Hay  ward 
answered  smiling.  "Owen  Cazalet's  a  young 
friend  of  mine.     He  went  with  me  to  Morocco." 

Madame  gazed  hard  at  the  portrait.  It  was 
admirable,  characteristic.  Slav,  Slav  to  the 
back'  )ne.  Then  she  ventured  to  play  a  bold 
card.  "He  re'  mds  me  of  an  old  friend  of 
mine,"  she  said  ly  as  she  looked  at  it — "in 

Petersburg — long  a-go.  The  same  eyes.  The 
same  big  build.  The  same  o}>en  expression.  He 
might  almost  be  a  son  of  Count  Sergiu8  Selis- 
toff's." 

"  You' think  so?"  Those  coid  eyes  were  fixed 
coldly  upon  her. 

Madame  Mireff  flinched  "Yes,  very  like 
him,"  she  answered,  m«»ing. 


\ ' 


4i 


162 


UNDSB  SBALBO  ORDERS. 


There  was  a  long  deep  pause.  Then  madame 
looked  up  with  engaging  frankness,  and  asked 
as  innocently  as  a  child,  "Is  he  Russian  by 
origin?" 

Mr.  Hayward  stroked  his  chin  and  regarded 
her  in  silence.  At  last  he  went  off  at  a  tangent. 
"I've  traveled  a  bit  in  Europe,"  he  said,  "and 
I  know  my  way  about  the  Continent,  I've 
visited  Petersburg.  I  remember  the  name  you 
mention.  There's  a  General  Alexis  Seliotoff  there 
— a  head  of  the  Third  Section.  ...  I  suppose 
you  know  him.  ...  Xo  doubt  this  Count  Ser- 
gius  Selistoff  was  the  general's  brother.  ..." 
He  paused  a  moment.  Then  he  broke  in  upon 
her  fiercely  with  a  sudden  lowering  of  his  head 
between  his  shoulders,  and  a  quick  clinching  of 
his  fists.  "And  do  you  think,  Madame  Vespi- 
onne,''''  he  cried  in  a  low  voice,  between  his  teeth, 
"if  these  were  really  Sergius  Selistoff's  children, 
I'd  give  up  the  fact  to  an  emissary  of  the  Czar's, 
and  a  creature  of  their  uncle's  at  the  Third 
Section?" 

Madame  MirefiF  drew  back,  wholly  abashed. 
She  was  a  woman,  after  all,  and  tears  rose  quick 
into  her  eyes.  "You  English  will  believe  any 
evil  on  earth  of  a  Russian,"  she  murmiu-ed  low, 
half  remoraefully. 

"Then  you  mean  them  no  harm?"  Mr.  Hay- 
ward  said,  drawing  back,  and  scanning  her  close 
from  head  to  foot. 

"Heaven  help  me,  no!"  madame  faltered,  los- 
ing her  presence  of  mind  for  a  moment  at  this 
anexpected  attack.     She  seejned  to  hesitate  one 


ts. 

Then  madame 
iHS,  and  asked 
3  Russian  by 

and  regarded 
t'  at  a  taugeut. 

he  said,  "and 
itinent.  I've 
the  name  you 
1  Seliotaff  there 
.  .  I  suppose 
lis  Count  Ser- 
brother.  ..." 
broke  in  upon 
g  of  his  head 
ik  clinching  of 
'adame  Vespi- 
^een  his  teeth, 
tofif'fl  children, 

of  the  Czar's, 

at  the  Third 

lolly  abashed, 
jars  rose  quick 
ill  believe  any 
lurmiired  low, 

n?"  Mr.  Hay- 
ining  her  close 

le  faltered,  los- 
loment  at  this 
bo  hesitate  one 


^ 


trif JDBR  SBALID  OBDJBRS. 


163 


instant,  and  Mr.  Hayward  noticed  her  hesitation 
with  a  disapproving  eye.  "It's  so  hard,"  she 
gasped  out  slowly  at  last,  "to  be  always  misun- 
derstood. ,  .  .  The  girl  herself — Sacha,  they  call 
her — ^misunderstood  me  the  other  day.  It's  pain- 
ful when  one  really  wishes  to  do  any  one  good — " 
She  broke  oflF  with  a  half  scared  look.  "Oh,  we. 
women  are  too  weak!"  she  cried  in  genuine  dis- 
tress. "Too  weak  for  our  work.  Too  weak  for 
such,  employments." 

"I  think  so,"  Mr.  Hayward  assented  with  a 
cold  half  contemptuous  sneer.  "Olga  MireflF, 
you  are  tried  in  the  balance  and  found  wanting. 
This  is  not  what  one  would  expect  from  Nicolas 
SergueyeflF's  daughter !" 

^,  Madame  started  again,  still  more  visibly.  She 
was  completely  unnerved  now.  She  clasped  her 
hands  in  her  astonishment.  "Why,  what  do 
you  know  of  my  father?"  she  exclaimed,  all 
aghast  at  such  omiscience. 

Mr.  Hayward  oame  closer  to  her,  seized  her 
wrist  in  his  hand,  and  addressed  her  in  Russian. 
"Olga  Mireff,"  he  said,  looking  hard  at  her, 
"you've  been  a  useful  friend  of  the  Cause;  but 
you've  lost  your  head  to-day.  This  is  dangerous, 
very.  Make  no  more  inquiries  at  present  about 
these  young  Cazalets,  I  tell  you.  You  had  no 
orders  to  meddle  witli  the  matter  from  head- 
quarters ;  and  this  is  a  headquarters'  affair. 
You've  ventured  to  push  yourself  in  where  you 
were  not  needed.  And  you  must  abide  the  re- 
sult. This  interview  between  us  shall  be  re- 
ported at  once — to  Ruric  Brassoff." 


.^ 


jl 

1-      . 


TTNDBB  SBALBD  OBDBtS. 

At  that  name  Madame  Mireff  gasped  for 
breath.  "Rurio  BrassoflP!"  nhe  repeated,  ap- 
palled.    "Then  you're  one  of  iis?"  in  Russian. 

For  it  was  even  so.  The  dear  friend  of  tUe 
Czar,  the  trusted  tool  of  General  Selistoff,  the 
unaccredited  envoy  to  the  English  cabinet — was 
herself  a  Nihilist.  And  it  was  for  the  sake  of 
the  good  she  could  do  the  Cause  that  she  con- 
Beuted  to  play  in  outward  show  the  hateful  game 
of  the  tyrant's  diplomatist. 

But  Mr.  Hay  ward  only  gazed  back  at  her  with 
unaffected  scorn.  "And  you  think  me  as  weak 
as  yourself,  then!"  he  answered.  "You  think  I 
wear  my  heart  on  my  sleeve!  You  think  I'll 
bare  my  bo«om  to  the  first  person  that  asks  me !. 
Olga  Mireff,  this  is  bad.  You  hold  your  cards 
ill,  to  expose  their  faces.  You  must  answer  for 
all  this — to  Rune  Brassoff." 


a.    ■ 

f  gasped  for 
repeated,  ap- 
"  in  Russian. 
'  friend  of  tUe 
Selistoff,  the 
i  cabinet — was 
tr  the  sake  of 
i  that  she  con- 
)  hateful  game 

ck  at  her  with 
ik  nie  as  weak 
"You  think  I 
iTou  think  I'll 
that  asks  me ! 
>ld  your  cards 
ist  answer  for 


I 


( 


CHAPTER  XVIIi; 


THE     NIHILIST 


It  was  with  profound  trepidation  that  Madame 
Mireff  opened,  next  morning,  in  her  luxurious 
rooms  at  the  Metropole,  a  letter  with, a  penny^ 
stamp  on  it,  bearing  the  Ealing  postmark.  For 
the  address  on  the  envelope,  she  saw  at  a  glance, 
was  m  the  handwriting  of  Ruric  Brassoff 's  secre- 
tary; and  she  felt  sure  the  mysterious  photog- 
rapher in  Bond  Street  must  already  have  dilated 
her  indiscretions  of  yesterday  to  the  head  of  the 
organization.  And  Ruric  Brassoff  himself,  afi 
every  Nihilist  knew  well,  was  not  a  man  to  be 
trifled  with.  m 

"Olga  Mireff,"  the  letter  said,  shortly,  in  Rus- 
sian, "I  learn  from  a  faithful  friend  that  your 
conduct  of  late  has  seriously  imperiled  several 
schemes  for  the  good  of  the  Cause  which  I  have 
much  at  heart;  and  I  feel  so  convinced  of  the 
paramount  necessity  for  explaining  to  you  the 
evil  tendency  of  your  inconsiderate  action  that  I 
have  determined  to  make  an  exception  to  my  gen- 
eral rule,  and  to  grant  you  at  last — what  you 
have  so  long  desired — a  personal  interview.  Call 
on  Saturday  next,  at  four  precisely,  at  the  same 
place  where  you  spoke  with  a  brother  of  ours 
to-day,  and  ask  to  see  Mr.  Hayward,  who  will 


X 


...4* 


ft' 


Ha 


166 


UNDER  BBALBD  ORDERS. 


&'■ 


conduct  you  to  my  presmce,     Yours,  for  Russia, 
Ruric  Brassoff." 

,  And  this  was  Tuosday!  Oh,  cruel,  cruel  de- 
lay! Had  Ruric  Braaaoff,  Hhe  wondered,  ar- 
ranged it  BO'pn  purpose?  Good  subordinate  as 
she  was,  and  duly  trained  to  obedience,  Madame 
Mireff  said  many  hard  things  in  her  own  heart 
meanwhile  about  that  inexorable  chief,  who  had 
given  her  four  Buch  days  of  suspense  and  misery. 
She  had  longed  to  meet  him  again  for  years — and 
now — why,  now,  she  dreaded  it.  How  difficult 
it  was  even  to  pretend  to  listen  with  interest  to 
Lord  Caistor's  long-winded  anecdotes  of  the  turf 
or  Lady  Beaumont's  vapid  society  stories,  with 
that  appalling  interview  hanging  over  her  head 
all  the  while  like  the  sword  of  Damocles!  How 
difficult  to  dine  out,  and  smile,  and  smirk,  and 
sparkle,  and  fascinate — with  the  letter  at  her 
heart,  and  blank  terror  in  her  soul.  Oh,  re- 
morseless cl^f !     Oh,  pitiless  organization ! 

At  last,  however,  the  dreadful  Saturday  came, 
and  with  what  resolve  she  could  muster  up, 
Madame  Mireff  drove  round  in  her  comfortable 
brougham  to  Mortimer  &  Co.  's,  in  Bond  Street. 
"To  see  Mr.  Hay  ward,"  she  said,  shortly,  with- 
out another  word  to  the  frizzy-haired  yOung  wo- 
man in  waiting  in  the  office ;  and  she  was  ushered 
at  once  into  the  photographer's  presence. 

"What  do  you  wish?"  Mr.  Hayward  asked, 
rising,  and  bowing,  polite  and  inscrutable  and 
courtly  as  ever. 

Madame  thought  of  her  instructions,  and  an- 
swered to  the  letter: 


■•  'i:^'', 


irs,  for  Russia, 

ruel,  cruel  de- 
Yondered,  ar- 
lubordinate  as 
ance,  Madame 
her  own  heart 
hief,  who  had 
36  and  miBery. 
'or  years — and 

How  difficult 
ith  interest  to 
»teH  of  the  turf 

stories,  with 
over  her  head 
nocles!  How 
id  smirk,  and 

letter  at  her 
K)ul.  Oh,  re- 
tiization ! 
iturday  came, 
i  muster  up, 
ir  comfortable 
.  Bond  Street, 
shortly,  with- 
red  yOung  wo- 
le  was  ushered 
)sence. 

tyward  asked, 
scrutable  and 

tiouB,  and  an- 


t7in>BR  SBALBD  ORDBRS. 


167 


"I  was  told  to  ask  for  Mr.  Hay  ward." 

The  photographer  smiled. 

^'Quito  right,"  he  replied,  more  approvingly, 
in  an  almost  gonial  tone.  "And  Mr.  Hay  ward 
was  to  show  you  to  ....  another  person."  He 
changed  his  expression  suddenly  as  he  added,  in 
Russian,  dropping  into  it  all  at  once:  "But  the 
two  are  one.  Olga  MireflE,  don't  you  know  me? 
I  am  Ruric  Brassoff  I" 

Madame  rose  in  alarm  from  the  chair  where  she 
had  seated  herself.  Her  head  swam  vaguely. 
Her  eyes  grew  dim.  She  clapped  one  hand  to 
her  forehead  in  amaze  and  bewilderment. 

"Is  this  a  trap?"  she  asked,  piteously,  gazing 
about  her,  all  unnerved.  "Do  you  want  to  take 
me  in  ?  You're  not  telling  me  the  truth.  I  knew 
the  man  well.  You'renof  PrinceRuric  BrassoflE." 

"Not  the  prince.  No,  that's  true.  I  ceased  to 
be  a  prince  long  ago,"  Mr.  Hay  ward  answered. 
"But  Ruric  Brassoff — yes — still  the  same  as  of 
old.  Look  hard,  Olga  Mireff,  and  see  if  you 
can't  reinstate  me!" 

Madame  Mireff  gazed  intently  at  him.  Her 
look  was  riveted  on  every  part  in  turn.  Then 
she  shook  her  head. 

"Not  a  trace,"  she  replied.  "Not  a  feature — 
the  eyes — perhaps  the  eyes.  But,  no,  impossible, 
impossible!" 

Mr.  Hayward  seized  a  pen  and  wrote  a  word 
or  two  in  haste  on  a  sheet  of  white  paper. 

"Whose  handwriting's  that?"  he  asked,  with 
an  air  of  demonstration. 

And  madame  gasped  out,  astonished: 


168 


UNPKR  BRALRD  OttDBRS. 


"Rurlc  BroMHoff'H,  Ruric  Brassorf's!" 

"  \n(l  thiay"  he  cried  ouce  mure,  writing  an 
oth»>r  liii"  unil  handing  it  to  htr, 

Madamo  Miroff  looked  at  it  anuizod. 

"Another  man's,"  nho  ausw-uod,  holding  otio 
hand  on  hor  h<;art;  "tho  aarno  we've  always  been 
aocuKtoined  to  call  your  secretary's." 

Mr.  Hayward  [mt  his  hand  to  his  mouth,  and 
fidilling  Hiightly  with  his  fingors  withtl  vv  some- 
thing hard  from  the  side  of  thognnis.  ilischeekn 
fell  in  a  little.  He  was*  less  i.iuud-tae(3d  than 
before. 

"Do   you   recognize  any  likeness  now?"    ho 

<ked,   with  a  (juivor  in  his  voice. 

"Hardly  any — Well,  perhaps— but,  there!  it's 
BO  slight — Oh,  no,  :. '  unlike  that  handHome  Ruric 
Brassoff  of  the  old  days  at  Poti^rsbiirg.  More 
stately -^severer  —  grander,  perhaps  —  but  less 
beautiful.  He  waa  fair,  y'^ou're  dark.  —  He 
had  a  beard.  You've  none. — His  nmstacho  and 
hair  were  light  brown,  almost  yellow.  Yours 
are  black."     And  she  hcnitated. 

"Dye,  dye;  mere-dye!"  Mr.  Hay  ward  mused, 
musically.  , 

"But  the  features !' '  Madamo  MireflF  exclaimed, 
incredulous.  "The  voice!  No,  impossible.  A 
man  can't  change  hia  profile,  his  build,  his  gait, 
his  very  tone.  You're  trying  to  impose  uprm  me, 
to  lure  me  to  some  snare.  I  can  never  believe 
it  I     You're  not  Ruric  .Brassu  if!" 

Mr.  Hayward  gazed  hard  at  her. 

"Have  you  the  letter  that  brought  you  here?" 
he  asked  very  quietly. 


'R5ftiSS:i 


Wm^P 


BRfl. 

jotf's!" 

ore,  writinjf  an- 

lod,  bdliUng  OHO 
I'voahvuys  boen 

his  mouth,  and 
withd  'WBorae- 
urt.  llischeekH 
>uud-t'au(3d  than 

ness  now?"    ho 

i  (^o. 

-but,  thoro!  it's 
himdHome  Ruric 
ti^rsbiirg.  More 
hapB  —  but  less 
I're  dark.  —  He 
is  niuBtacbo  and 
yellow.     Yours 

[ay  ward  mused, 

[ireflf  exclaimed, 

impossible.     A 

I  build,  his  gait, 

mpose  uprm  me, 

n  never  believe 
I 

9T. 

ight  you  here?" 


UNDER   SKAI.BD   <      ikRKi}. 


169 


Madame  puliod  It  from  hor  'losom. 

Tlie  Nihilist  took  it,  Hud  shook  his  head 
Holemiily. 

•'Wrong,  wrong;  (juite  wrong,"  he  said,  with 
a  despondent  gesture,  laying  it  down  by  tho  sig- 
iiaturo  he  had  just  written  for  comparison.  ' '  Who 
(•;in  work  with  such  tools?  You  carry  this  about 
with  yon !  Why,  you  ought  to  have  burned  it, 
of  course,  the  moment  you'd  read  it!  Suppose 
you'd  boen  run  over  by  accident  in  tho  street, 
and  such  a  thing  had  been  found  upon  you?" 
He  cnimpled  the  note,  and  held  it  up  for  one 
minute  before  her  eyes;  then  ho  lighted  a  match 
.ind  reduced  it  with  the  other  pajwr  by  its  side 
to  ashes.  She  watched  it  burning.  "  WoU,  you 
saw,"  he  went  on,  with  a  sigh,  "those  are  the 
self-same  signatures.  The  letters  you've  been 
accustomed  to  receive — and  obey — from  Ruric 
Brassoff,  are  letters  from  me!  That  much  you 
can  make  out  with  your  own  eyes,  at  any  rate. 
And  I'm  all  of  Ruric  Brassoff  that  yet  remains, 
though  time  and  privations  no  dmibt  have  mado 
me  thin  and  lank!  There's  nv)t  enough  left  of 
mo  now  for  you  to  recognize,  seemingly." 

Madame  Min^fT  stared  at  him,  astonished. 

"How'vo  you  done  it?"  sho  asked,  wondering. 
"I  suppose  I  must  believe  you're  Ruric  Brassoff, 
since  you  say  so.  But  how  on  earth  have  yr  u 
managed  so  complotly  to  disguise  yourself?" 

The  Nihilist  (  hief  laid  his  hand  on  her  shoulder 
with  Ilia  paternal  air. 

"Listen,  Olga  Mireff,"  he  said,  solemnly. 
"You  remember  what  I  was — how  brought  up 


170 


ITNDRR  HRALRD  ORDERS. 


— in  what  luxury.  No  youuff  nmti  of  fiwhion  in 
Petoixburg  wiw  IxttUtr  (iroHMod  tlmn  I;  uo  noUiior 
liml  inoro  hiicc»*hsoh;  no  companiou  was  more 
HOU(jfi»t  nfU^r.  I  wiiH  rich,  I  whh  grwit,  I  wnn 
noblo,  I  wiiH  ix)worful.  Woll,  ono  day,  witli  ii 
Hudden  awaiconinK,  conHciimco  Hinoto  mo  like  n 
Bword.  Tlioro  wjis  u  tluuulorHtorm  at  PotorHburg. 
I  oamy  to  inyHolf  all  at  otico  in  tlio  midst  of  tlio 
tempoBt;  I  realizod  my  own  notbiugnoHS  in  this 
vast  t«5eming  universe.  1  heard,  as  if  with  my 
own  ears,  tho  i>hiintivti  cry  of  our  Russian  peasant 
— you  know  tluit  low  cry — all  stitiod  wailing  and 
lamentation,  in  which  centuries  of  serfdom  aud 
suffering  soom  concentrated.  His  squalid  misery 
touched  me— that  great  pathetic  figure,  broken 
down  by  toil,  exhausted  by  hunger,  worn  out 
with  exactions.  I  awoke  to  a  new  life;  I  felt 
my  heart  throb  for  him,  this  inarticulate,  dumb, 
tortured  thing,  wiu>  cim  weep,  but  cannot  speak; 
this  endless  crucified  sufferer.  Then  I  fell  on 
my  face  before  the  Lord,  like  Paul  on  the  way 
to  Damascus;  I  took  in  my  heart  a  solemn  oath 
to  consecrate  my  life,  my  strength,  my  thoughts, 
my  energies,  to  the  liberation  of  that  patient, 
voiceless,  manifold  people,  which  drajns  its  life- 
blood  eternally  in  order  that  we,  the  favored 
children  of  privrilege  and  wealth,  may  live  at 
our  ease  in  groat  towns,  eat,  drink  and  wive  us, 
and  make  merry  on  its  sacrifice." 

"I  know  it,"  madame  answered,  flushing  red 
in  her  turn  and  clasping  her  hands  hard  with 
emotion.     "1,  too,  I  have  felt  it." 

"Well,  and  you  know  the  rest  in  part,"  the 


RR8. 

an  of  fiiHhinn  in 
an  I ;  no  Holdinr 
niou  wuH   more 

IH    grwilt,     I     WHM 

»no  day,  with  a 
tinoto  nio  like  a 
n  at  Potoraburg. 
tlu)  midst  of  tlu) 
hingnoHS  in  tliiH 
I,  as  if  witli  my 
RuHBian  peasant 
Hod  wailing  nnd 
of  serfdom  and 
HHqualid  misery 
B  figure,  broken 
iiiger,  worn  out 
new  life;  I  felt 
rticulato,  dumb, 
at  cannot  speak ; 
Then  I  fell  on 
Paul  on  the  way 
rt  a  solemn  oath 
bh,  my  thoughts, 
of  that  patient, 
li  drnjns  its  life- 
we,  the  favored 
th,  may  live  at 
ak  and  wive  us, 

red,  flushing  red 

iiands  hard  with 
>> 

st  in  part,"  the 


*m 


'fm- 


■i-ns-^i.  h  'tim-  ,^-  :<ar;:n  ^tr-'-m---:  -i^f^  '^^tr.  vnirm'W^r^r 


UNDRR  HEALED  OKDKRH. 


171 


ardent  revolutionlHt  wont  on,  with  tlie  Slavonic 
firo  iu  iiiH  Ixtsoni  now  bursting  bright  like  a 
lamp.  "ITow  I  toro  off  those  gilded  dothi's  that 
tiat  like  vitriol  into  ray  Hesh;  how  I  put  on  the 
rough  coat  and  wooden  shoos  of  tho  [K^asant;  how 
I  wasted  njy  vast  fortune  like  water  for  the 
Cause;  how  I  horded  with  poor  wretches,  eating 
their  black  bread  and  drinking  their  poisonous 
vodki,  that  I  might  carry  to  them  the  great  gos- 
pel of  our  age — the  social  revolution.  What  mat- 
tor  to  me  if  the  cut-throats  of  the  (government 
laid  hold  upon  my  vile  body?  What  matter  to 
me  (ixile,  death,  torture,  8il>eria?  You  and  I 
shrink  not  from  such  sacrifices.  We  could  meet 
the  ax  itself  with  a  smile  of  pure  happiness." 

Madame  Mireff  clinched  her  hands  still  harder. 

"It  is  you,  "she  cried.  "Itisyou!  Hollowed 
you  from  the  court.  I  recognize  there  the  true 
voice  of  Ruric  Brassoff !" 

Mr.  Hayward's  face  grew  calmer. 

"In  time,  then,"  he  went  on,  relapsing  once 
more  into  his  accustomed  self,  "I  found,  as  you 
know,  I  could  serve  our  great  Cause  better  in  the 
West  than  in  Russia,  They  stole  my  fortune, 
or  all  that  was  left  of  it.  I  came  abroad,  and 
determined  no  man  should  ever  recognize  again 
the  head  of  the  organization.  It  was  painful, 
but  I  did  it.  You  say  it's  impossible  to  alter 
one's  profile.  Not  so!  Just  a  little  bit  of  car- 
tilage removed — see  here, " — and  he  took  a  sketch 
from  a  drawer  at  his  side— -"there's  the  Ruric 
Brassoff  you  knew  long  ago  at  Petersburg.  But 
cut  away  a  mere  shade  there — under  the  flesh — 


-     ! 


rd 


•■■'m 


172 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


a  great  Paris  surgeon:  yes,  it  was  an  internal 
operation,  of  courso,  and  horribly  agonizing — 
but  for  the  Cause!  and  I  am  a  Brassoff!  A 
razor  to  my  chin,  a  little  plain  black  dye,  a 
different  cut  of  the  hair,  a  new  twist  to  the 
mustache  does  all  the  rest.  And,  see!  in  a 
minute" — he  added  a  touch  or  two  with  his 
pencil  to  the  early  sketch — "you  get  me  as  I 
am  now,  Lambert  Hayward,  photographer,  and 
a  naturalized  subject  of  her  Britannic  Majesty!" 

Madame  glanced  at  him  in  admiration. 

"The  disguise  is  so  perfect,"  she  said,  after  a 
long,  deep  pause,  "that  I  never  for  a  moment  so 
lauch  as  suspected  it.  And,  what's  more,  when 
you  told  me  at  first  I  couldn't  believe  it.  But 
your  voice — your  voice — how  have  you  altered 
even  that  so  profoundly,  so  completely?" 

Ruric  Brassoff  sighed  deep. 

"Ah,  that  was  hard,  indeed,"  he  answered. 
"There's  only  one  way.  Comprassion  and  al- 
teration of  shape  in  the  larynx,  with  operations 
on  the  vocal  chords,  and  constant  use  of  local 
muscular  astringents.  Those,  aided  by  fresh 
habits  of  life  and  English  intonation — with  my 
cheek-pieces  to  boot — have  given  me  a  new  voice 
even  in  speaking  Ru&sian.  As  for  my  hand- 
writing, that's  nothing.  Any  one  can  manage 
that.  I  practice  both  hands  constantly,  and 
alternate  them  as  I  please.  One's  ray  original 
style,  written  with  a  backward  slope  and  a  thick, 
blunt  pen,  very  Russian  and  natural ;  the  other's 
acquired,  written  the  o^.posite  way,  and  with  a 
fine-pointed  nib,  forming  all  my  letters  on  the 


DERS. 

was  an  internal 
ibly  agonizing — 
L  a  Brassoff!  A 
lin  black  dye,  a 
lew  twist  to  the 
And,  see!  in  a 
)r  two  with  his 
,^ou  get  me  as  I 
ihotographer,  and 
tannic  Majesty!" 
imiration. 

she  said,  after  a 
•  for  a  moment  so 
hat's  more,  when 

believe  it.  But 
have  you  altered 
ipletely?" 

I,"  he  answered, 
iprassion  and  al- 
,  with  operations 
t&nt  use  of  local 
aided  by  fresh 
mation — with  my 
m  me  a  new  voice 
\.s  for  my  hand- 
one  can  manage 

constantly,  and 
)ne's  my  original 
slope  and  a  thick, 
itural ;  the  other's 

way,  and  with  a 
my  letters  on  the 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


173 


common  English  model.  But,  Olga,  you're  the 
very  first  person  in  the  world  who  has  ever  been 
permitted  to  penetrate  ray  disguise.  And  only 
because  I  feared  you  might  wreck  all  by  your 
imprudence,  and  because  I  didn't  like  to  risk 
committing  the  facts  to  writing — especially  to 
you,  wLo  are  so  liable  to  interruption  by  the 
agents  of  the  tyranny— I  decided,  after  long  de- 
bate, to  ask  you  round  here  to-day  to  talk  things 
over  with  me.  I  want  to  show  you  how  danger- 
ous, how  undesirable  it  is  for  you  to  make  any 
further  inquiries  about  Owen  and  Sacha  Caza- 
let." 


II'. 

■  ,'f.  ■  "~-'--'h    '■> 

X 

•■■i:>  ..*:<•"  :,r,-- 

^-?i?W'^-:-'''h 

1 


M 


Mi 


174 


tTMDBB  SEALED   ORDERS. 


•«( 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

« 

CONSPIRACY.  -    '       ■  ' 

"Of  course,"  madame  said,  still  trembling 
inwardly,  "they're  Sergius  SelistoflE's  children." 

Mr.  Hay  ward  bent  his  head.  "Sergius  Selis- 
toff's  children,"  he  reflected.  "Yes,  Sergius 
Selistoff 's  children.  When  the  Terror  broke  out, 
and  Setgius  Selistoff  was  hurried  away  by  ad- 
ministrative power  to  the  Siberian  mines,  I  man- 
aged to  smuggle  off  Mme.  Selistoff  unperceived, 
with  the  little  ones  by  her  side,  as  far  as  Wilna. 
There,  as  you  must,  of  course,  remember,  the 
poor  lady's  brain,  tortured  by  the  thought  of  her 
husband's  hideous  fate  and  her  anxiety  for  her 
children,  gave  way  altogether.  She  rushed  out 
into  the  streets,  raving  mad,  from  her  place  of 
joncealment,  crying  aloud  that  the  Czar  was 
murdering  her  Sergius  and  stealing  her  babies 
from  her,  and  for  the  little  ones'  sake — thei-e  was 
no  help  for  it — we  were  obliged  to.  abandon  her. 
It  was  some  weeks  before  I  could  carry  the  poor 
orphaned  creatures  surreptitiously  across  the 
Prussian  frontier,  and  then  by  siieamer  from 
Dantzic  to  England.  Mme.  Selistoff,  as  you 
know,  died  meanwhile,  still  raving  mad,  in  the 
asylum  at  Wilna,  and  I  was  forced  for  our  poor 


BR8. 


UNDER  SEALED   ORDERS. 


176 


*«'' 


-'.  { 


still  trembling 
tofiE'schildreu." 

"Sergius  Selis- 

"Yes,  Sergius 
Ferror  broke  out, 
ied  away  by  ad- 
t,u  mines,  I  man- 
»flf  unperceived, 
as  far  as  Wilna. 
,  remember,  the 
e  thought  of  her 
'  anxiety  for  her 

She  rushed  out 
om  her  place  of 
;  the  Czar  was 
aling  her  babies 
sake — thei-e  was 
to.  abandon  her. 
d  carry  the  poor 
Lisly  across  the 
Y  siieamer  from 
lelistoff,  as  you 
ing  mad,  in  the 
reed  for  our  poor 


martyr's  sake,  to  undertake  the  charge  of  Bacha 
and  the  boy  Sergius." 

"Whom  you  call  Owen?"  madame  put  la 
interrogatively. 

"Wl^om  we  now  call  Owen,"  Mr.  Hay  ward 
assented,  with  a  fatherly  smile.  "You  see, 
Olga,  the  girl  was  four  years  old,  and  wouldn't 
hear  of  being  called  by  any  name  but  Sacha, 
which  was  the  pet  name  she'd  always  borne  in 
her  father's  house,  at  Petersburg,  so  I  had  to 
leave  her  alone,  but  the  boy  was  a  baby,  and  as 
I  wished  to  bring  him  up  a  thoroughgoing  En- 
glishman, I  comnxitted  him  at  once  to  Miss 
Cazalet's  care  under  the  name  of  Owen.  It  was 
years  before  he  knew  he  was  Russian  by  origin." 

"You  were  still  Ruric  Brassoff  then?"  Ma- 
dame asked. 

"Not  exactly.  I  was  passing  just  that  mo- 
ment through  an  intermediate  state,  reversing 
the  usual  process,  from  butterfly  to  caterpillar. 
I  took  them  personally  to  Miss  Cazalet's,  repre- 
senting myself  as  a  Polish  refugee,  but  with  he 
face  and  complexion  of  the  Ruric  Brassoff  that 
used  to  be.  I  told  the  poor  lady,  who's  a  feeble- 
minded English  old  maid — you  know  the  type — 
weak  tea,  respectability,  district  visiting,  the 
Central  African  Missions — they  were  her  half- 
sister's  children— Madame  SelistofiE  had  given 
me  the  address  and  the  family  history  before  I 
started,  and  Sacha  was  quite  old  enough  to  un- 
derstand and  remember  most  things.  But  I  ex- 
plained to  the  good  aunt  it  would  be  dangerous 
to  let  it  get  noised  abroad  they  were  Russians 


'■4 


,->"' 


176 


UNDER  SEALBD  ORDERS. 


and  Selistoffs,  the  Czar  might  claim  them  as  hiB 
subjects  and  send  them  too  to  Siberia.  I  fright- 
ened her  so  much,  indeed,  she  consented  at  last 
to  acquiesce  in  the  story  that  their  father  'had 
died  in  Canada,  and  to  suppress  their  real  name 
—  which  was  much  for  an  Englishwoman. 
They've  been  brought  up  ever  since  in  her 
house  as  Cazalets,  and  as  British  subjects; 
though  Alexandra  never  forgot  she  was  a  Sells- 
toff  bom,  nor  the  horror  and  terror  of  those  days 
at  Wilna." 

"And  the  change  of  face?"  madame  inquired. 

"The  change  of  face  came  afterward.  For 
three  years  I  never  saw  Miss  Cazalet  again, 
though  I  wrote  to  her  occasionally  and  sent  her 
money  for  the  children — hov.'  hard  earned,  God 
only  knows — saved  often  by  starving  myself 
from  the  Ruric  Brassoff  you  knew  to  the  spare 
and  weatherworn  man  you  see  before  you  now. 
Meanwhile,  I  was  undergoing  my  new  birth — 
passing  through  my  chrysalis  stage  in  holes  and 
corners — resting  quiescent  as  Ruric  Brassoff,  to 
emerge  from  the  shell  as  Lambert  Hayvvard,  an 
Englishman.  Bergmann,  of  Berlin,  transformed 
my  voice  for  me — most  difficult  operation  on  the 
vocal  chords.  Charcot  managed  my  features, 
not  knowing  whom  I  might  be,  or  why  I  wanted 
them  altered.  I  learned  English,  too,  in  an 
English  family  in  Yorkshire,  and  having  our 
Russian  taste  for  languages,  like  yourself,  por- 
fected  myself  rapidly.  When  the  metamorphosis 
was  complete,  I  took  to  photography.  I'd  been 
an  amateur  in  Petersburg,  you  remember,  and  I 


>BRS. 

laim  them  as  his 
iberia.  I  fright- 
ionsentod  at  lant 
their  father  'had 
3  their  real  name 

Englishwoman. 
siT  since  in  her 
British  subjects; 

she  was  a  Selis- 
ror  of  those  days 

ladame  inquired, 
afterward.  For 
I  Cazalet  again, 
ally  and  sent  her 
lard  earned,  God 
starving  myself 
lew  to  the  spare 
before  you  now. 
my  new  birth — 
tage  in  holes  and 
iuric  Brassofl,  to 
)rt  Hay  ward,  an 
rlin,  transformed 
operation  on  the 
ed  my  features, 
or  why  I  wanted 
iish,  too,  in  an 
and  having  our 
ke  yourself,  por- 
le  metamorphosis 
raphy.  I'd  been 
remembOT,  and  I 


I 


UNDER  SEALED   ORDERS. 


177 


made  it  pay  in  London.  Having  lost  my  all, 
for  the  sake  of  the  Cause,  I  was  bound  to  make 
money." 

"And  does  the  aunt—the  old  maid — know  all 
this?"  madame  asked  with  deep  interest. 

"Not  a  soul  on  earth  but  yourself  knows  a 
word  of  it.  You  are  the  first,  most  likely  you 
will  be  the  last,  who  has  ever  been  so  honored. 
Not  even  Sacha  suspects  it,  my  disguise  was  so 
perfect.  I  have  such  little  doubt  of  its  absolute 
offectivenevss  that  I'd  go  to  Petersburg  itself  if 
necessary,  as  an  English  tourist.  Well,  at  the 
end  of  three  years  I  saw  Miss  Cazalet  agaiu,  this 
time  as  an  Englishman  who  had  known  Sergius 
SelistoflF  and  his  wife  at  Vienna.  I  drove  a 
hard-and-fast  bargain  with  her,  which  has  been 
loyally  kept  on  both  sides  ever  since.  I  engaged 
to  keep  Owen,  and  pay  for  his  education,  and 
start  him  iu  life  as  my  own  son,  if  she'd  let  me 
have  him  with  me  for  two  months  in  each  year 
to  do  as  I  liked  with.  Poor  lady,  she  jumped  at 
it — though  she'd  have  cut  her  throat  sooner  if 
she'd  known  what  I  really  wanted  him  for— she, 
with  her  narrow  Evangelical  views  and  her  Cen- 
tral African  Missions;  absorbed,  not  so  much  in 
the  bread  of  life  as  in  the  necessity  of  getting  it 
from  this,  that,  or  the  other  particular  baker. 
But  she  took  me  for  an  Englishman,  and  she 
takes  me  for  one  still,  though  she  has  doubts  in 
her  own  mind  now  as  to  the  rightfulness  of  the 
bargain,  and  as  to  the  nature  of  my  journey ings 
up  and  down  over  Europe." 
.   "  Well,  and  what  are  you  going  to  do  with  the 


t  4 


^'J 


issmm 


wmBmumm 


iMHMi 


mi 


U}^' 


178 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


young  man?"  Madame  Mireflf  asked  again.  "He 
looks  like  fine  fiber — fit  for  any  service  humanity 
may  choose  to  require  of  him." 

"He  is,"  Ruric  Brassoff  answered,  with  affec- 
tionate pride.  "A  magnificent  body,  a  pure, 
enthusiastic,  unselfish  soul.  Our  best  Russian 
characteristics  have  come  out  in  him  full  toned, 
only  heightened  and  improved  by  free  English 
training.  He's  a  noble  instrument  for  a  noble 
end.     Frankly,  Olga,  I'm  proud  of  him." 

"And  he  belongs  to  the  Cause?" 

"Implicitly.  He  has  sucked  it  in  at  the  breast 
with  his  mother's  milk,  almost.  From  his  earli- 
est boyhood,  as  soon  as  he  was  able  to  under- 
stand anything,  I  began  preparing  the  way 
beforehand,  plowing  and  harrowing  the  soil, 
sowing  the  good  seed  tentatively,  in  proportion 
as  his  years  would  permit  him  to  receive  it. 
And  it  fell  on  good  ground;  being  Sergius  SpHh- 
toflf's  son,  he  was  naturally  receptive.  He  loves 
Russia  with  a  love  passing  the  love  of  those  who 
have  lived  in  it  and  known  it.  The  Cause  of 
Free  Slavonia  is  to  him  an  ideal,  an  aspiration, 
a  religion.  He  is  one  of  us  to  the  core.  He  has 
no  doubtH,  no  hesitation." 

"I  see,"  madame  answered.  "That  is  fine. 
That  is  splendid.  And  you're  going  to  put  him. 
Lady  Beaumont  said,  I  think,  into  the  Englisfi 
diplomatic  service." 

"Yes.  He'll  be  useful  to  us  there  as  he  would 
be  nowhere  else.  It's  a  long  task,  to  be  free. 
We  taunt  build  for  the  future.  I've  been  build- 
ing thwi  one  step  patiently  for  twenty  years  and 


)ERS. 


ked  again.  "He 
ervice  humanity 

ered,  with  affec- 
t  body,  a  pure, 
ur  best  Russian 

him  full  toued, 
by  free  English 
ment  for  a  noble 
[of  him." 
I?" 
it  in  at  the  breast 

From  his  earli- 
i  able  to  under- 
aring  the  way 
owing  the  soil, 
►ly,  in  proportion 
m  to  receive  it. 
rig  Sergius  Selis- 
ptive.  He  loves 
ovo  of  those  who 
t.  The  Cause  of 
,1,  an  aspiration, 
he  core.     He  has 

"That  is  fine, 
foing  to  put  him, 
into  the  English 

there  as  he  would 

task,  to  be  free. 

I've  been  build - 

twenty  years  and 


" 


UNDER  SEALED   ORDERS. 


179 


more.  .  .  Attaches  and  embassadors  have  access 
to  court  dignitaries  which  no  one  else  can  se- 
cure— A  day  may  come  when  Owen  Cazalet 
can  strike  a  great  blow  for  Russia."  He  paused, 
and  drummed  hard  with  one  finger  on  tlie  table. 
Then  he  added  once  more  in  a  quaintly  pensive 
tone:  "I  read  in  an  anthropulogical  book  this 
morning  that  on  Savage  Island,  in  the  South 
Pacific,  a  line  of  kings  once  roigued  over  a  dusky 
people.  But  as  these  kings  partook  of  a  divine 
nature,  and  were  supposed  to  make  the  rain  fall 
and  the  crops  grow  apace,  their  subjects  got  an- 
gry with  them  when  the  food  supplies  fell  short, 
and  killed  them  off  rapidly,  one  after  another,  in 
a  spell  of  bad  seasons,  till  at  last,  so  many  kings 
were  clubbed  to  death  in  succession  that  nobody 
cared  to  accept  the  office.  The  title  went  beg- 
ging for  want  of  aspirants.  .  .  And  I  laid  down 
the  book,  and  thought  of  Russia." 

Madame  Mireff  smiled  grimly.  "But  even 
Owen  doesn't  know  who  ycu  are  then?"  she 
asked  in  an  afterthought. 

"No,  even  Owen  doesn't  know.  As  for  Sacha, 
though  she  suspects  me,  no  doubt,  of  being  a 
Russian,  perhaps  even  a  Nihilist,  she  knows 
nothing  at  all  —  and  with  the  Slav  reticence, 
abstains  from  asking  me.  She's  a  fine  creature, 
Sacha.  I  believe  if  she  knew,  she'd  sympathize 
all  round,  for  she  remembers  her  mother's  death 
and  her  father's  long  slavery.  But  she's  the 
genuine  Slavonic  type  in  that  also :  she  sees  it't 
no  business  of  hers,  and  she  makes  no  inquiries. 
There's  something  about  Sacha's  subdued  stem 


mwM 


180 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


fastness  of  purpose  I  admire  immensely.  Old 
and  worn  as  I  am,  if  ever  I  married  now,  I 
sometimes  think  to  myself  I'd  marry  Sacha 
Oaiealut." 

lie  paused  a  moment  and  sighed.  No,  no ;  he 
himself  was  above  those  winiknesHes  ho  had 
pointed  out  to  Owen  as  the  grnat  Btuinbling 
blocks  in  a  patriot's  path.  True  Russian  ascotin 
at  heart,  he  had  brought  his  body  under  and  his 
soul  as  well.  No  share  for  him  there  I  He  could 
smile  at  the  bare  thought  of  it. 

"And  now  you  see,  Olga  Mireff, "  he  went  on, 
more  grave  than  ever,  "how  unwisely  you  were 
acting,  and  how  you  were  thwarting  my  plans — 
the  pbms  of  the  Cause — by  suggesting  in  public 
those  children  might  be  Russians.  My  one  great 
object  in  Owen's  education  has  been  to  make 
him  an  Englishman  all  over,  in  externals  at 
least — to  make  him  strong,  and  good  at  games, 
and  personally  popular  with  Englishmen.  I 
wanted  nobody  even  to  suspect  any  Russian  con- 
nection. I  wanted  this  bolt  to  fall  upon  them 
from  the  blue.  Attempt  on  the  life  of  the  great 
head  of  the  criminals,  the  aggressor  an  English- 
man— a  servant  of  the  British  crown — an  attache 
or  embassador  at  Constantinople,  say,  or  at  Ath- 
ens. Conceive  what  a  sensation!  And  you 
nearly  spoiled  all — you,  a  woman,  and  unbid — 
by  .suggesting  in  the  room  where  Lord  Caistor 
was  sitting,  that  my  fine  English  young  man, 
my  typical  Briton,  may  be  after  all  a  son  of 
SergiusSelistoff's!" 

Madame  covered  her  face  with  her  hands  at 


' 


o 


msely.  (^Id 
ried  now,  I 
larry   Sacha 

No,  no;  he 
ses  ho  had 
I,  BtmnbliriK 
ssian  aseotin 
idor  and  his 
I     He  couhl 

he  went  on, 
ily  you  were 
my  plans — 
ig  in  public 
ily  one  great 
en  to  make 
externals  at 
1  at  games, 
[lishmen.  I 
Russian  con- 
i  upon  them 
of  the  great 
an  English- 
— an  attache 
-,  or  at  Ath- 
And  you 
i,nd  unhid — 
jord  Caistor 
roung  man, 
ill  a  son  of 

ler  hands  at 


' 


(  I 


o 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


181 


the  magnitude  of  her  own  error.  "Oh,  this  is 
too  terrible  of  me!"  nhe  cried,  all  penitence. 
"What  folly!  What  indiscretion !  But  I  did  it 
only  because  I  wanted  ,to  know  the  facts — to 
save  them  from  the  clutches  of  Alexis  Solistoff 
in  Petersburg." 

"He  asked  you  to  hunt  them  up?"  Mr.  Hay- 
ward  asked  calmly. 

"Yes.  He  iisked  me  to  hunt  them  up.  And 
how  could  I  know  you  were  interested  in  keep- 
ing it  secret'/  I  wanted  to  war'n  the  dear  souls 
jigainst  that  iiifm  that  implacable  fjiireaucrat, 
(liut  vile  tool,  their  ttwla.  if  over  he  diseoyoiTfd 
them,  he'd  be  capable,  1  IteAiove,  of  inviting 
them  to  Petersburg,  under  friendly  promises, 
and  then  killing  them  with  his  own  baud,  'r 
flinging  them  secretly  into  his  cells,  to  avenge 
and  wipe  out  the  family  disgrace,  as  he  considers 
it.  And  I  wanted  to  save  them !  .  .  .  But  all 
I've  done,  it  seems,  is  to  surprise  the  secret  you 
desired  to  keep.  I've  forced  your  hand,  I  know 
well.  ,  .  .  Rurie  Brassoff,  there's  but  one  way  I 
can  atone  for  my  wrongdoing." 

She  looked  up  at  him  with  fierce  pride.  Mr. 
Hayward  eyed  her  pityingly.  "Olga,"  he  said, 
after  a  long  pause,  "you're  quite  right.  There's 
but  one  way  out  of  it.  And  when  I  invited  you 
to  come  here  to-day,  I  meant  to  ask  you  to  follow 
that  way  to  the  bitter  end.  If  I  asked  you,  I 
know  your  devotion  well  enough  to  feel  sure 
you'd  obey.  The  woman  who  has  discovered 
Ruric  Brassoflf's  identity  against  his  will — the 
woman  who  alone  of  living  creatures  could  bring 


-^>Wt.TS  i'^3©ffi;'»  »a(A- "• 


m 


182 


UNPBK  SEALED  ORDERS. 


m-^ 


a  spy  to  this  spot,  and  point  hor  finj^er  at  me  and 
Bay,  'This  \h  ho;  nrrewt  hini'— that  woman  ought 
to  gn  homo  without  one  inomont'H  hoHitutiou  and 
cut  her  own  throat  or  bh)W  her  own  hraiim  out. 
The  CauBo  demandH  it,  I  know,  and  the  martyr 
would  bo  forthc'ojnintf." 

Madame  rose  and  cijufrontod  liim.  Hor  eyo 
flaHhed  firo.  "Ruric  BrasHoff,"  she  oxdaimed 
haut<htily,  "you  have  said  it.  It  is  done — 
already." 

He  seized  her  hand  and  checked  hor.  "No, 
no,"  he  cried,  "not  so  fast.  I  didn't  mean  tfuit. 
I  have  other  plans  yet  in  store.  Olga  MirefF,  I 
need  you  still.  F'or  the  sake  of  the  Cause,  I 
command  j'ou  —  I  forbid  you.  I  give  you  a 
harder  task  yet.  .  .  .  Live  on,  and  keep  si- 
lence." 

"Then  you  trust  me?"  the  woman  cried,  trem- 
bling with  joy  all  over  at  so  signal  a  proof  of 
Ruric  Brassijff's  confidence. 

"I  trust  you!"  he  answered,  low.  "Live  on, 
to  complete  our  great  work,  Olga  Mireff.  But 
never  breathe  to  a  soul  that  you  have  seen  or 
known  me." 

She  looked  at  him,  proud  and  resolute.  "Ruric 
Brassotl","  she  said,  beaming  delight,  "I  am 
yours  and  Russia's.  You  can  do  as  you  will 
with  me.  Say  'Die I'  and  I  die.  Say  'Live,' 
and  I  live  on,  were  it  in  speechless  misery." 

He  bowed  his  head  toward  her,  acquiescing. 
"It  is  atoned,"  he  said,  slowly. 

She  lifted  those  rich  lips.  "For  Russia!"  she 
murmured,  beseechingly. 


3 


R8. 

nger  at  me  und 
;  WdinuQ  ought; 
henitutiou  ami 
wn  hruiiiH  out. 
ind  tlio  martyr 

liim.     Hor  eyo 

ahe  oxcliiimed 

It    is   done — 

3d  hor.  "No, 
n't  mean  that. 
Olga  Mireff,  I 

the  Cause,  I 
I   give  you  a 

and  keep  ai- 


UNDER   SKALBD   ORDERS. 


188 


He  sto()|)ed  down,  and  just  touched  them. 
•'For  Huswial"  he  answered,  in  th(<  tone  of  one 
inspired.     "For  Russia  only.     ForRuHsia." 

She  started  back,  rosy  red.  She  was  a  wr  lan, 
after  all.  "Thunk  you,  Rurie,"  she  answered. 
"I  shall  remember  that  kiss  through  lift*.  My 
lips  are  holy  now.  Russia's  noblest  son  has 
deigned  to  sanctify  them." 

He  motioned  her  away  with  his  hand.  She 
moved  slowly  to  the  door.  "Good-by, "  she  said 
enraptured,  with  her  hand  on  the  lintel.  "Never 
again,  dear  brother.  But  as  you  bid  me,  I  live, 
and  no  torture  shall  drag  your  secret  from  me." 


i'«-.^"  ...•-;.  . 


in  cried,  trem- 
;nal  a  proof  of 

w.     "Live  on, 

I  Mireff.     But 

have  seen  or 

)lute.  "Ruric 
light,  "I  am 
0  as  you  will 
Say  'Live,' 
misery." 
,  acquiescing. 

Russia!"  she 


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184 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


t 


V 


tr 


CHAPTER  XX. 


SORE  TEMPTED. 


It  was  auturau  ut  Moor  Hill,  and  the  beeches 
on  tlie  nhaik  downs  had  put  on  their  imperial 
robes  of  crimson  aL..wld  and  Tyritm  purple. 
How  could  Sacha  resist  the  teiifpiMon  of  a  visit 
to  Aunt  Julia's  at  such  an  enticing  timeV     Im 
possible;  she  felt  she  must  run  down  to  see  them. 
There  was  a  holiday  on  the  Stock  Exchange,  too, 
and  Trevor  (rardtner,  most  timid  of  men,  still  all 
tentative  politenc's&.  had  asked  leave  to  accom- 
pany her.     "That's  >4ie  worst  of  allowing  these 
people  a  foothold   in   one's  house  as  hewers  of 
wood  and  drawers  of  water,"  Sacha  grumbled 
half  petulantlv  to  If  ne.     "'They  presume  upon 
their  position,  and   w  ant  at  last  to  dine  at  the 
same  table,  ins'ioad  of  sticking  as  they  ought  to 
their  place  in  the  kitchen.     We'd  have  done  bet- 
ter lo  go  in,  I  see,  for  being  thoroughly  inde- 
pendent from  the  very  first  outset.     The  mistake 
was  made  when  we  })ermitted  such  an  insinuat- 
ing creature  as  a  man  to  come  interfering   at  all 
with  our  cozy  little  phalanstery.'' 

"They  ore  insinuating — sometimes,"  lone  an- 
swered, witli  a  mischievous  laugh  ''And  some- 
times they're  not — not  half  ins"  .uating  enough 
— especially  when  you'd  like  them  to  be.     The} 


JL 


a*^..':^ 


ho  beeches 
r  imj)orial 
tin  purple. 
1  of  a  visit 
time?     ifi« 
I  to  see  thorn, 
^change,  too, 
tneu,  still  all 
,0  to  accom- 
lowing  these 
iri  howers  of 
a  grumbled 
■esume  upon 
)  dine  at  the 
hey  ought  to 
ive  (lone  bot- 
;)ughly  inde- 
rhe  mistake 
an  insinuat- 
oring   at  all 


3S, 


lone  au- 
Aud  some- 
iting  enough 
to  be.     The} 


t 


:JL 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


want  you  to  lift  them  over  all  the  hard  stiles,  in- 
stead of  lending  j'ou  a  helping  hand  to  got  over 
yourself,  out  of  consideration  for  your  skirts,  and 
your  native  modesty  a^  a  woman.  I've  met 
some  of  them  that  way."  Perhaps -she  was 
thinking  of  Owen.  "But,  my  dear,  you  may 
grumble  aboui,  them  as  much  as  ever  you  like — 
you  won't  take  me  in."  And  she  shook  a  wise 
little  lier.d.  "We  wouldn't  get  on  half  as  well 
without  him.  But  as  it  wouldn't  be  proper,  of 
course,  for  you  anil  Mr.  Gardener  to  go  down 
together  alone — why,  sooner  than  shock  Mrs. 
Orundy  or  your  aunt,  I  don't  mind  obliging 
you  myself,  and  making  the  third  who's  pro- 
verbially no  company.  I'd  like  so  much  to  see" — 
she  didn't  say,  Owen,  but — "your  old  studio  at 
thdRof'  Cottage." 

It  is  thus  that  eveji  the  frankest  of  us  use 
language,  as  Talleyrand  said,  to  conceal  our 
thoughts.  For  lone,  after  all,  was  as  frank  aa 
it  is  given  her  half  of  the  human  .species  ever  to 
show  itself  opejily. 

When  iVunt  Julia  heard  she  was  coming — 
"that  dreadful  toozly-haired  creature,  you  know, 
that  you  met  in  Morocco,  Owen,  and  whose  por- 
trait in  men's  clothes,  and  a  Mussulman's  at 
that  (or  should  one  say  a  Mussulwoman's?),  was 
put  in  the  Graphic'^ — her  horror  and  alarm  were 
simply  unbounded.  "What  Sacha  can  mean  by 
bringing  the  girl  down  here  and  flinging  her  at 
your  head,  I'm  sure  I  can't  conceive,"  Aunt 
Julia  sighed  dismally.  *'But  there,  what  the 
young  women  of  this  age  are  coming  to,  Heaven 


4 


V   * 


'_3^'^ 


f 

■fc  > 

I-'  . 


f- 


186 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


only  knows,  with  their  Hats  and  their  latchkeys 
anil  their  riding  like  gontlemeu.  It's  enough  to 
make  their  gram'motliers  turn  in  their  graves, 
Yoii  won't  caro  for  hiT,  Owen,  that's  one  com- 
fort, for  I  know  you  always  say  you  like  women 
to  be  womanly,  arl  this  creature's  exactly  the 
same  as  a  man,  and  not  a  good  mtin  at  that, 
either.  I  ro.id  some  of  her  article  about  Morocco 
in  the  BiiuouUihj  Rerictv—l  conhhVt  read  it 
all— and  it  showed  she  was  utterly  devoid  of 
sound  Christian  principles.  She  goes  into  one 
of  the  dark  places  of  the  earth  without  making 
the  faintest  attempt  to  spread  the  light  there. 
She  jokes  about  the  most  serious  subjects  iu  a 
really  painful  way;  talks  of  Mohammeucins 
without  one  word  as  to  their  errors  or  their  im- 
mortal souls,  and  lived  at  one  place  in  an  old 
Moor's  house  who  had  three  wives  in  his  harem, 
which  is  certainly  not  respectable.  When  /  was 
a  girl,  a  woman  who  did  such  things  as  that 
would  have  been  ashamed  to  speak  out  about 
them;  but  nowadays,  they  write  a  full  account 
of  their  vagaries  in  a  magazine  as  if  masquerad- 
ing in  men's  clothes  was  something  to  be  proud 
of." 

Owen  said  nothing.  Rut  the  fact  that  Aunt 
Julia  thought  so  ill  of  Tone  rather  operated  in 
his  mind  as  an  extra  attraction  to  the  pretty 
Greek  girl  than  otherwise.  It  was  an  unfortu- 
nate knack  of  Aunt  Julia's,  indeed,  not  unknown 
among  old  maids,  to  rouse  opposition  at  once  in 
young  people's  souls  by  the  mere  manner  of  her 
pronoimcement.     And    if    there   was    anything 


t 


f 


".■^^'^■;fil■9J}'l'  ^'JJ^ii,*^ii'!!l^'"''T''S'^?" 


UNDER   HEALED   ORDERU. 


187 


r  latchkeys 
s  enough  to 
leir  graves, 
's  one  coni- 
like  woniou 
exactly  the 
I  an  at  that, 
jut  Morocco 
In't  read  it 
r  devoid  of 
los  into  one 
out  making 
light  there, 
ubjects  in  a 
hamaieucins 
or  their  im- 
;e  in  an  old 
I  his  harom, 
Wlien  /  was 
ngs  as  that 
k  out  about 
full  account 
mascjuerad- 
to  be  proud 

t  that  Aunt 
operated  in 
)  the  pretty 
an  unfortu- 
lot  unknown 
»u  at  onco  in 
anner  of  her 
IS    anything 


t 


Aunt  Julia  wanted  Owen  to  do,  she  couldn't 
have  devised  a  better  means  of  insuring  her  end 
than  to  preach  at  him,  in  season  and  out  of  sea- 
son, that  ho  oughtn't  to  do  it. 

But  wh(m  lone  really  camo,  she  burst  upon 
them,  as  usual,  like  u  ray  oi'  sunlight.  Even 
the  prop  of  the  Universities  Mission  hereelf,  pre- 
pared for  a  nuwt  masculine  and  forbidding  per- 
son, was  taken  aback  at  the  first  blush  by  lone's 
joyous  and  irrepressibly  girlish  personality, 
"So  this  is  Aunt  Julia!"  the  dreaded  stranger 
cried,  taking  both  Miss  Cazalet's  hands  warmly 
in  hers,  as  the  mistress  of  the  house,  with  sol- 
emn dignity,  in  all  the  glory  of  her  black  silk 
and  her  creamy  luce  head-dress  stood  awesome 
by  the  jasmine-covered  p:irch  to  receive  them, 
"I've  heard  such  a  lot  about  Aunt  Julia  from 
Owen  and  Sacha  already  that  I  almost  seem  to 
know  you  by  anticipation,  and  as  for  me,  I'm 
afraid  you've  se<n\  a  great  deal  too  much  of  me 
in  the  papers  long  ago— those  dreadful  papers. 
Oh,  yes,  I  know— they've  stuck  mo  in  in  all  at- 
titudes and  all  earthly  costumes,  till  I'm  sick  of 
seeing  in  print  'Miss  lone  Dracopoli.'  It's  sim- 
ply wearisome.  But  what  a  sweet  little  cottage, 
though,  and  what  lovely  chrysanthemums!  I 
never  stiw  such  a  splendid  outdoor  specimen  iu 
my  life  as  that  white  Japanese  one.  You  should 
send  it  to  a  Hower  show!" 

Now,  chrysanthemums,  as  it  happened,  were 
Aunt  Julia's  one  weakness  (we  are  all  of  us  hu- 
man), and  lone  had  heard  of  that  weakness  be- 
forehand,  and  after  her  feminiufs   fashion    had 


Hi. 


188 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


'r*, 


tv 


dexterously  titilized  it.  But  the  remp.i-k  and  the 
fresh  exubeninee  of  that  brisk  young  life  had 
their  due  etfoct  none  the  less  in  mollifying  Aunt 
Julia's  stony  British  heart.  She  could  never 
quite  forgive  lone,  to  be  sure,  for  neglecting  to 
distribute  an  Arabic  version  of  "Jessica's  First 
Prayer,"  in  the  harem  at  Oran;  but  she  admit- 
ted to  herself  grudgingly,  in  her  own  small  soul, 
that  the  poor  child  was  at  any  rate,  as  she  phrased 
it,  "an  amiable  breathren."  As  for  Trevor  Gar- 
dener, Aunt  Julia  thought  well  of  him  at  the 
very  first  blush — an  expression  Avhich  in  his  Cfise 
was  strictly  appropriate.  He  wore  spotless  kid 
gloves,  and  very  shiny  white  shirt-cuffs,  the 
sight  of  which  made  her  feel  instinctively  sure 
of  the  soundness  of  his  principles.  For  not  only 
were  Principles  the  object  of  a  perfect  idolatry 
with  Aunt  Julia;  they  were  also  recognizable  to 
the  naked  eye.  She  spjke  of  them  always  as  of 
articles  that  might  be  weighed  and  measured,  so 
to  speak,  by  the  square  foot  or  the  pound  avoir- 
dupois. She-  was  a  connoisseur  in  principles, 
indeed.  She  liked  the  very  best,  and  she  knew 
them  at  once  when  she  saw  them. 

After  lunch,  Sacha  proposed  a  walk  on  the 
downs.  The  idea,  though  not  so  w;y// original, 
after  all,  struck  Owen  at  once  as  particularly 
brilliant.  A  walk  on  the  downs.  How  cLver, 
now,  of  Sacha!  He  didn't  want  to  talk  to  lone 
alone  for  anything  special,  of  course.  Mr.  Hay- 
ward's  solemn  warning  against  the  pitfalls  of 
the  sex  had  sunk  to3  deep  into  his  mind  for  any 
such   wickedness   as  that;    but   still— at   Aunt 


i 


iAl 


■■MPI 


n^il^Mm^m 


■BPff: 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


189 


iRi'k  and  the 
lilt;  lifo  hud 
ifyiag  Aunt 
could  never 
eglooting  to 
ssica'.H  First 
t  she  admit- 
L  small  soul, 
1  she  phrased 
Trevor  Gar- 
him  at  the 
b  in  his  Cfise 
spotless  kid 
rt-cuffs,  the 
ictively  sure 
For  not  only 
feet  idolatry 
iognizable  to 
always  as  ot 
measured,  so 
pound  avoir- 
1  principles, 
[id  she  knew 

walk  on  the 
erij  original, 
particularly 
How  clever, 
I  talk  to  lone 
!.  Mr.  Hay- 
e  pitfalls  of 
nind  for  any 
ill— at   Aunt 


i 


Julia's,  you  know — and  in  the  drawing-room 
before  all  those  listening  ears — why,  what  could 
one  talk  about  worth  hearing  to  such  a  girl  as 
lone?  For  thougli  Owen  had  only  mot  lone  half 
a  do/en  times,  all  told,  since  his  return  from 
Morocco,  he  felt  vaguely  to  himself  that  he  and 
hIw,  while  not  the  least  little  bit  in  the  world  in 
loi'C  with  one  another,  of  course,  had  yet  arrived 
instinctively — well,  at  a  sort  of  understanding 
between  themselves — that  kind  of  understand- 
ing, don't  you  know,  wbich  makes  it  quite  im- 
possible to  talk  your  mind  out  freely  before  a 
third  person. 

We  have  all  been  there  ourselves,  and  we 
know  what  it  means.  Not  love — oh,  dear  no — 
not  necessarily  or  exactly  what  you  might  call 
downright  love,  don't  you  sec;  but  a  sort  of 
sympH*^^hy,  or  friendship,  or  familiarity,  or  good 
fellowship;  or  let  us  even  say,  ahem,  conlidential 
relations.  No  harm  in  the  world  in  confidential 
relations.  Provided  always — but  there,  what's 
the  use  of  talking  about  it?  We  have  been  there 
ourselves,  I  repeat — and  wo  remember  where  it 
landed  us! 

Ab  they  strolled  up  the  hill,  all  four  of  them 
together,  the  path  between  the  hedge  and  the 
wood  was  narrow.  Only  room  for  two  abreast — 
so  they  paired  off  naturally.  Owen's  long  legs 
made  him  stride  on  in  front,  and  lone  kept  up 
with  him  like  a  trained  mountain  climber.  Tre- 
vor Gardener,  on  the  contrary,  always  correct  in 
his  dress,  and  with  namesake  flower  in  his  but- 
tonhole,   walked   a   more   town- bred   pace  with 


.01 


'^i'OA.  v^ 


■■  iv 
n  - 

V:- 


I?  ■  • 


!   .  ^ 


«" 


^^ 


190 


UNDRl    SEALED   ORDERS. 


Haclia  liohind.  Tlu^  two  athlotes  Hoon  distanced 
him,  and  vvoro  well  out  of  oaixhot  among  the 
crimson-clad  l)eochos. 

"I'm  glud  vvi"  ciimo  out,"  OwtMi  broki^  forth  at 
last,  aftc«r  one  long  deep  pause,  gazing  hard 
though  askance  at  his  companion's  fresh  face. 
"It's  80  nice  to  he  alone  with  you  once  again, 
lone." 

He  said  it  vith  the  shy  but  naive  frankness 
of  the  hohhledehoy  to  the  budding  girl.  lone's 
cheek,  already  rosy  with  the  walk  uj)hill,  Hushed 
a  deeper  red  still  as  he  spoke — jind  looked  at 
her.  There  was  more  in  his  look  ten  thousand 
times  than  in  his  words.  "Then  you  like  to 
be  with  me,  Owen?"  she  asked,  just  as  frank- 
ly, in  return,  with  that  free  Greek  unreserve 
of   hers. 

Owen  started,  and  looked  again.  "Why,  of 
course  I  do!"  he  answeretl  {juickly.  "Who 
wouldn't,    lone?" 

lone  stepped  on,  now  treading  springy  on  the 
close  sward  of  the  open  downs.  Iter  footfall 
was  light  and  tripj)ing  as  an  Oread's.  "That's 
nice!"  she  said,  with  a  simple  smile.  "One 
likes  best  to  be  liked  by  thus(>  one  likes  oneself, 
don't  you  think.''  Sd  much  better  than  all  those 
smart  men  one  meets  up  in  I.iondon." 

"You  go  out  a  great  deal?"  Owen  asked, 
trembling.     It  meant  so  much  to  him. 

"Well,  you  see,  just  this  season,  I  was  a  sjrt 
of  a  lion.  Next  year  it'll  have  worn  off,  and 
everybody'll  have  forgotten  me.  But  this  year, 
I've  been  made  much  of,  and  asked  out  for  a 


i 


*i- 


''^^T'- 


'.;('#"-" I w  J    '   ,'-"" 


mmmmm^mmmmmmi/imm 


UNDER   SKALED   ORDERS. 


191 


n  (listiinced 
among  the 

•oki^  forth  at 
fuzing  hard 
I  frosh  faoe. 
onco  again, 

e  frankness 
]jirl.  lono's 
ihill,  rtuKhod 
d  looked  at 
en  thousand 
y^ou  like  to 
st  aH  frank- 
k   unreserve 

"Why,  of 
ay.     "Who 

ringy  on  the 
tier  footfall 
s.     "That's 


nil( 


'One 


ikes  oneself, 
i;ui  all  those 

>vveu  asked, 

n. 

I  was  a  S3rt 

orn  off,  and 

ut  this  year, 

>d  out  for  a 


^M#»^W«''j^' 


i 


9 

I 

I 


^ 


i4i- 


shovv — just  to  swell  Mrs.  Brown's  or  Lady  Vero- 
de-Vere's  triumph." 

"And  the  men  talk  a  great  deal  to  you?'' 

"Yes.  You  know  the  way  they  talk.  Men 
who've  seen  everything,  know  ever3'hody,  go 
everywhere.  Men  who  say  clever  things— witli 
a  sting  in  tlie  tail.  Men  who  don't  seem  to  be- 
lieve in  the  existence  of  truth  or  goodness  any- 
where. Thoy  ct)me  up  to  nie,  all  outward  defer- 
ence, but  with  a  lurking  suspicion  in  their  eyes 
tiiat  seems  to  say,  'Now,  what  game  are  yon 
playing?  How  do  you  want  ti  tackle  mo?' 
And  then  their  talk!"  Siie  mimicked  them 
mischievously.  "  'Going  to  any  of  these  dances 
to-night?'  'Yes,  going  to  two  or  three  of  them.' 
'Know  the  Burne-Jonses?'  'No.  Why?  Are 
tliey  giving  a  party:'  I  heard  a  man  say  that 
one  night,  in  town,  I  assure  you.  Oh,  isn't  it 
just  sickening?  I'm  glad  the  autumn's  come 
and  the  season's  all  over.  I'm  glad  to  get  down 
here,  if  it's  ondy  for  a  day— one  love!}'  day— to 
nature  and  reality." 

"It  was  good  of  you  to  come,"  Owen  mur- 
mured, abashed  and  afraid.  "I  was  so  avvfullj' 
glad  when  I  heard  you  were  coming." 

lone  turned  to  him  with  a  flash  of  light  in  her 
happy  eyes,  The  chestnut  hair  blew  free  round 
her  face  in  the  autumn  breeze.  Her  glance  was 
very  tender.  "Oh,  Owen,  then  you  wanted 
me?"  she  said.  She  was  too  much  in  love  with 
him  herself  not  to  throw  herself  so  upon  him. 

Owen  drew  back  and  hesitated.  He  knew 
only  too  well  he  was  on  dangerous  ground.     If 


{.  Ir^i* j  'l-«*^v  W ;- ":' . 


■-•v  •VFe-rtv-' 


f. 


;. 


-m„;^j^.;i^; 


log 


UNPKR   HEALKD   OlinKRS. 


Mr.  Hayward  wore  hut  tlioro  to  soo  I'.ow  Horely 
ho  wan  tempted!  But  Mr.  Hnywurd  was  far 
away,  and  lono  was  noar— very  iioar  iudt'od. 
Her  hmatli  l>l<'\v  warm  on  liiw  chook.  llor  oyes 
hold  him  and  fascinated  him, 

'•Yo8,  I  wantiHl  you,  lono,"  ho  waid  nlowly. 
But  ho  Haid  it  with  a  roservatioii.  Ho  know 
how  vory  wi-ouk  it  was.  This  siron  was  charm- 
ing him  away  from  the  plain  i)ath  of  duty. 

As  for  loiio,  sho  drow  l)ack  liko  ono  wtun^'. 
Tho  rosorvation  in  his  voic-c  rousod  tho  woman 
within  hor.  Sho  folt  horsolf  slif^'htod.  She  tolt 
sho  had  flung  horsdf  upon  him — and  he  had  ro- 
jectod  the  hooii.  No  woman  on  earth  can  stand 
that.     Sho  drew  away  froni  him  proudly. 

"Lot's  sit  down  and  wait  for  Sacha,"  bIio  said, 
coldly,  in  an  altered  tone.  "They'll  ho  coming 
up  soon.  I  oughtn't  to  have  got  so  far  in  front 
of  her." 

It  was  Owen's  turn  now  to  foci  a  pang  of  ro- 
morso,  "Oh,  no,  don't  lot's  sit  down,"  ho 
cried;  "don't  deprive  mo  of  this  pleasure.  lone, 
I've  longed  so  to  get  a  few  wo.''ds  with  you  alone, 
ever  since  you  arrived  at  Moor  Hill  this  morn- 
ing. You  can't  think  what  a  joy  it  is  to  mo  just 
to  walk  hy  your  side,  just  to  hear  your  sweet 
voice.  You're  s)  difToront  from  other  girls. 
I'm  so  happy  when  I'm  with  you." 

"  Happy y"  lone  lepeated,  half  angrily. 

"Oh,  you  know  I  am.  You  can  see  it.  Why, 
I  thrill  all  over.'' 

His  knees  trembled  as  ho  said  it  But  be  said 
it  all  the  same.     He  looked  at  hor  shyly,  as  ho 


•i- 


.i      » 


t 


1    f 


^  ,-'>  «■  .■»'^'k-^ih%>>'S?%V4  -^l    J  4 


HMMII«NMPWiPiP 


UNDKIl   HKALEI)   OKDKIIS. 


\n 


I'.ow  Horely 

il  WHS   fur 

111"   iiulood. 

llor  oyew 

lid  Hlowly. 

llo  know 

was  chiirm- 

duty. 

oiu'  Htiintr. 

tho  woman 
1.  Shu  ii'W 
1  he  hud  ro- 
ll can  stand 
idly. 

I,"  she  said, 
1  bo  oominiC 

far  in  front 

pang  of  re- 
down,"  he 
snre.     lone, 

1  you  alone, 
this  inorii- 
is  to  nio  just 

your  sweet 
other    girls. 

rily. 
be  it.     Why, 

Biit  he  said 
shyly,  as  ho 


t 


I 


spoko,  hlnshing  red  with  first  love.  He'd  have 
given  worlds  to  kiss  her.  ,\ud  he  would  havo 
done  it  to:i — if  it  hadn't  heen  for  the  ( 'ause  and 
Mr.  llayward. 

"Then  why  did  you  say  in  that  tuin' — 'Ye-es; 
um;  I — ah — wanti'il  you,  lone'V" 

"Because,"  Owen  cried,  driven  to  hay,  and 
with  his  heart  thr.ihhing  wildly,  "I  longt^d  to 
say,  'Yes,  nmdly  —  intensely  —  unspeakal)!}-.' 
But  I  know  it's  (juite  wrong.  1  oughtn't  to 
spoak   so   to  you." 

"Why  not?"  lone  uakod,  fronting  him,  with 
inoxorahle  cahnness. 

Owen  looked  at  hor  hai-der  still.  Oh,  how 
beautiful  she  was,  how  strong,  how  free,  how 
irresistible.  Talk  abotit  tho  Cause,  indeed";' 
Wliat  wus  tho  C^iuso  to  him  to-day?  lias  a 
Cause  such  bright  eyes  as  that,  such  red  lijjs, 
such  blushing  chocks,  such  a  heaving  bosom? 
Has  a  Cause  such  soft  hanels?  "Because,"  hi? 
faltiTod  feebly  once  more,  "how  can  I  fall  in 
love  now — at  barely  twenty-one — and  with  uuth- 
ing  to  live  upon'/" 

"But  you  hare  fallen  in  love,"  lone  answered, 
demonstratively.  She  knew  it  lietter  than  ho 
did.  She  savv  it  quite  clearly  in  his  face  by  this 
time;  and  being  herself  she  said  ho. 

That  straight  statement  of  a  plain  fact  heljir-d 
Owen  out  immensely.  "Yes,  I  /.«/>'  fallen  in 
love,"  he  answered  panting,  and  with  his  heart 
in  his  mouth.  "Ca,  lone,  so  very  much  I  I 
love  you  with  all  my  soul.  I  shall  always  love 
you — you  ever  and  you  only." 


m 


.'/iTjI'.. 


_S^^-^M^i^&*^^ 


^^r.: 


TT 


-'^j-     »^    i\,  ^^_ 


<  xt^'^m  II ' ^ 1 1  iiV  yi.li '^V^^^^^M^^f '  ■   -  " 


\<M 


INDKK   SKALKI)   ORDKKH. 


"I  kni'w  it,"  lnii(>  iiUHWorod,  lluHhiii|jr  bright 
red  once  luoii!,  iiiul  with  tW  lovc-lij^ht  in  lier 
oyo8.  "And — I  lovo  you  tho  Hiinics  ( >vv('ii.  1 
loved  you  altnont  from  that  very  llrHt  iii^lit  ut 
Ain-Kssii.  .  .  .  And  oh,  if  wo  both  fool  it 
why  rihouhlu't  wo  miy  hoV" 

Thoy  had  waiidcriHl  away  from  tho  path  as 
they  Hpoko,  Ix'hiud  (^rcat  clumpH  of  hoUy-buHhes. 
Owen  hiokcd  at  ht>r  once  mote — raiwd  hi.H  hand 
— caught  ht>rrt  iuHtinctivoly.  "Hccausc  it  would 
be  wroni^  of  nicl"  lio  nnirmurod  all  trcinuloun, 
clasping  her  HngcPH  in  hisown.  "1  mustn't  even 
kisrfyon."  ]}ut  he  bent  forward  us  ho  Hpoko, 
"I  don't  belong  to  myself,"  ho  cried,  "I  .im 
bought  with  a  price.  I  should  bo  doing  injustice 
to  others  if  T  were  to  give  way  to  my  lovo  for 
you." 

"What's  her  nanieV"  lone  askod,  toasingly, 
withdrawing  her  hand  with  a  cocpiettish  little 
air  from  her  lover.  For  she  knew  very  wcOl 
in  her  own  heart  there  waw  no  she  in  the 
matter. 

"Oh,  loue,"  Owen  cried,  all  reproach.  "TIow 
can  you  say  such  a  thing,  in  jest  even.  You 
kiioii^  very  well  there's  n()])ody  else  on  earth  I 
care  a  pin  for  but  you.  And  for  yon — I  would 
die  for  you !" 

"Yes,  T  know,"  lone  answered,  turning  sud- 
denly round  and  facing  him.  Her  voice,  thougli 
still  tremulous,  rang  quick,  clear,  and  decisive. 
"I  know  what  it  all  means.  I  guessed  it  long 
ago.  You  don't  think  you  must  fall  in  love 
with    me,    because  you're    otherwise   engaged. 


I 
I 

t 


I 


<) 


UNDER   SKALRD   ORDRRS. 


195 


ij;lit  ill   her           * 

f 

,   Owvn.     1 

Ht  iii^lit  ill 

otli   fool  it            < 

. 

th((  piitli  us           1 
olly-lmshos.           1 

* 

0(1  lii.s  liiuid           1 

iHO  it  would           1 
tr(>tnuloiiH, 

mustn't  cvon 
18  ho  Hi)ok<'. 
io.l,    "I  am 
ii|^  injustice 

> 

my  lovo  for 

,  toasinfifly, 
lettish  littlo 

V  vory  well 
slic   in   tho 

wh.     "TIow 

even.     You 

1  on  oartli  I 

on — I  would          ! 

urning  snd- 

1 

oico,  thougli 
nd  docisivo. 
3S8ed  it  long 

fall    in   lovo 

86  engaged. 

- 

\ou'vo  prmiMod   tliiil   horrid   Nihilist  man— to 
blow  up  the  C!zar  for  him." 

Sho  had  played  a  holil  card— played  it  Wfdl 
and  ellV'ctively.  Sho  meant  to  reliaso  Owen 
from  thiw  hatoful  thraldom,  us  ^he  felt  it  to  ho, 
and  HJio  W(>nt  tho  right  way  to  work  to  effect  iier 
piu-pose.  Ort'cMi  gazed  at  her  ast,)n^!wlied.  How 
had  she  divined  liis  Heiret':'  Thru,  in  amemetit, 
it  camo  over  him  liko  u  wave  that  if  nhe  know 
all  already,  th(«ro  whs  und  could  ho  now  no  bar- 
rier betwe.-n  them.  Tho  holly  buHhes,  tluink 
H;>a\en,  rose  tall  and  thick,  and  scrouned  thom 
frcm  observation.  Ho  seized  her  hand.  Ho 
proHHod  it  hard.  He  touched  her  rich  red  lips. 
"Oh,  my  darling,"  he  cric'd  in  a  transport  of 
■,vil('.  joy,  of  sudden  relief  from  terrible  tension, 
"I  lovo  you— I  lovo  you— I  may  always  lovo 
you." 

Ho  clusped  her  in  his  arms.     Sho  nestled  there 
gladly. 


'^mtm 


j_''..*  ■C'C^/-'^'  :s* '  y'^'j'i" "» - 


"^.r-. 


19(5 


UNDKR   8EALKD   ORDERS. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 


THE   QUALITY    OF  WOMAN. 


It  was  quite  a  long  time  before  Sacha  and 
Trevor  Gardener  caught  them  up. — And  the  rea- 
son was,  in  part,  because  Sacha  and  Trevor  Gar- 
dener were  eciiiidly  well  employed  on  their  own 
account  independently. 

He  was  a  shy  man,  Trevor  Gardener,  and 
they'd  -limbed  a  long  v^ay  n\)  the  steep  slope  of 
the  hill  before  he  turned  round  to  his  companion 
with  a  sudden  burst  and  blurted  out,  in  his  mod- 
estly jerky  way : 

"Look  here,  Sacha,  it  was  awfully  good  of 
you  to  suggest  we  should  come  out  like  this 
this  afternoon.  I  was  .so  angi'y  when  loue  first 
proposed  to  run  down  witli  us.  I  wanted  ...  a 
teie-a-tete  v--ith  you,  and  her  coming  spoiled  it." 

"I  knew  you  did,  Trevor,"  Sacha  answered, 
calmly:  it  had  been  "Trevor"  and  "Sacha"-from 
the  very  first  with  them  in  that  most  modern 
household,  where;  conventions  were  not.  ' ' I  knew 
you  did,  and  that's  why  I  proposed  coming  out 
here." 

"Oh,  how  kind  of  you!"  Trevor  Gardener 
cried,  looking  admiration  unspoken  from  those 
honest  blue  eyes.     "So  like  you,  too,  Sacha!" 

"I  thought  it'd  be  best  to  get  it  over,  once  for 


m: 


TT" 


.iiMVMiBiiiniwurjinwnjiii .  jiiMlwpppHi 


UNDER  SEALED   ORDERS. 


m 


Sacha  and 
Vnd  the  rea- 
Trevor  Gar- 
n  their  own 

rdener,    and 

teep  slope  of 

3  companion 

in  his  niod- 

:lly  good  of 
lit  like  this 
m  lone  first 
nted  ...  a 
;  spoiled  it." 
A  arsv\'ored, 
Sacha"' from 
iiost  modern 
)t.  "I  knew 
coming  out 

or  Gardener 
I  from  those 
,  Sacha!" 
ver,  once  for 


f 


V 


all,"  Sacha  answered,  unmoved  to  the  outer  eye. 
But  she  gathered  up  her  skirt  and  pinned  it  as 
she  spoke  with  hands  tliat  tromhled  juet  a  wee 
bit  more  than  one  would  have  thought  quite  likely 
with  such  a  girl  as  Sacha. 

Trevor  Gardener  gazed  at  her,  astonished,  and 
not  a  little  troubled  in  mind. 

"To  get  it  over!"  he  echoed,  ill  at  ease.     "Oh, 
Sachii,  what  do  you  moau?     To  get  it  over?" 

"  VVell,  I  thought  you  had  something  to  say  to 
me,"  Sacha  continued,  very  outwardly  calm,  but 
with  three  nervous  fingers  toying  quick  on  the 
ivory  Japanese  button  that  fastened  her  watch- 
chain.  "I  gathered  it  from  your  manner.  And 
I  thought— the  sooner  said,  the  sooner  mended." 
Trevor  Gardener's  face  fell. 
"Then  you  knevv  .  .  .  what  I  was  going  to 
say  to  you?"  he  murmured,  much  crestfallen. 

"We  women  have  our  intuitions,"  Sacha  re- 
plied, oracularly,  still  playing  with  the  button. 
"And  your  answer  would  have  been — ?" 
Sacha  lauglicd  an  amused  little  laugh. 
"How  on  earth  can   I  say,  Trevor,"  she  ex- 
claimed, more  frankly  and  less  timidly,  "when 
I  haven't  heard  your  (juestion?" 

Trevor  Gardener  glanced  askance  at  her,  the 
shy  glance  of  the  bashful  young  man. 

"That's  true,"  he  mused,    hesitating.     "But 
still,   Sacha — your  intuitions,   you  know!— you 
might  gupss  the  question." 
Sacha  smiled  still  more  broadly. 
"What  a  funny  man  you  are !"  she  cried,  pull- 
ing a  flower-head  as  she  passed.     "Yci  want 


-"^y 


.^^k-f^M^iiM^,.  4l|i*M»^ 


EM 


v-.^  ' 


198 


rUDER   SEALBD   ORDERS. 


me  to  play  both  hani^s  nt  once,  your  own  and 
mine.  You  want  me  to  give  both  (luestion  and 
answer." 

Trevor  admitted  in  his  own  mind  she  was  per- 
ft'ctly  right.  And  yet,  somehow,  he  conhln't 
muster  up  oourasre  to  frame  in  words  what  he 
wanted. 

"Well,  you  meant  to  have  this  tete-a-tete  with 
me,  anyhow?"  he  suggested  after  a  short  pause. 

"Oh,  yes,"  Saoha  answered.  "I  told  you  so 
before.     I  wanted  to  get  it  over." 

"It?" 

"Yes,  it." 

"But  you  like  me,  don't  you?"  the  young  man 
burst  out   pleadingly. 

Sacha'ri  Lace  flushed  rosy  red. 

"I  like  you  very  much,  indeed,"  she  replied. 
"When  firsl  you  came  and  offered  to  do  our  work 
for  us  I  was  only  interested  in  you—jiist  inter- 
ested in  you— nothing  more,  because  I  saw  you 
sympathized  with  us  and  understood  our  motives. 
But  the  mere  I've  seen  of  you,  the  better  I've 
liked  you.  I  like  your  simplicity  oi  lioart,  your 
straightforwardness  of  action,  your  singleness  of 
aim,  your  honest  earnestness.  I  see  you're  a  real 
live  man,  with  a  soul  of  your  own,  among  all 
these  tailor-made  Frankenstein  dummies.  And 
I'm  very,  very  fond  of  you.— There,  now!  will 
that  do  for  you?" 

She  turned  round  ujKjn  him  almost  fiercely,  so 
that  the  young  man  (luailed.  But  he  mustered 
up  courage,  all  the  same,  to  look  her  full  in  the 
face  and  add : 


f 


I 


■4.A.€' 


5:Li--X-^^.' 


^lif!^"!!' 


ir  own  and 

lestiou  and 

he  was  i)er- 
tie  coiddn't 
da  what  he 

-a-tete  with 
^hort  pause, 
told  you  so 


young  man 


she  replied, 
do  our  work 
-jnst  inter- 
e  I  saw  you 
)ar  motives, 
better  I've 
lieart,  your 
iuL'fleness  of 
vou'reareal 
I,  among  all 
mies.  And 
will 


now 


t  fiercely,  so 
lie  mustered 
>r  full  in  the 


UNDER  SItALED  ORDERS. 


199 


"And  you'll  say  yes  to  my  question  then? 
You  won't  refuse  moV" 

"What  is  it?"  Saeha  replied,  running  her 
hand  through  the  tall  grass  nervously  as  she 
spoke.  "See  here,  Treviir.  You  compel  me 
to  be  plain."  Her  heart  was  beating  violently. 
"There  are  two  questions  either  of  which  you 
may  mean  to  ask,  though  you  might  have 
thought  of  tluMTi  yourself  as  different.  One  is 
'Do  you  love  mo?'  The  other,  'Will  you  marry 
me?'  There,  now,"  her  face  was  crimson,  but 
^he  went  on  with  an  effort,  "you've  forced  me 
to  ask  them  myself,  after  all.  It  isn't  woman's 
sphere  — but  you've  driven  me  into  it.  Well, 
which  of  the  two  do  you  want  me  t;>  answer?" 

Trevor  Gardener  seized  her  hand  and  held  it, 
unresisted,  one  second  in  his  own.  A  wave  of 
delight  passed  over  him  from  head  to  foot, 

"WoU,  the  first  one  first,"  he  said,  stammer- 
ing.    "Oh,  Sacha,  do  you  love  me?" 

Sacha  tore  the  tiny  spikelets  from  the  grasa- 
hea  1  one  by  one  with  trembling  fingers  as  she 
answered,  in  a  very  firm  voice,  soft  and  ii^iv; 

"Yes,  Trevor." 

The  young  man's  heart  gave  a  bound.  He 
raised  her  hand  to  his  lips  and  kissed  it  fervently. 

"That's  everything!"  he  cried,  overjoyed,  all 
his  timid: ty  deserting  him  now;  for  when  a 
woman  once  admits  she  loves  you,  what  have 
you  further  to  fear?  "And,  Sacha,  will  you 
marry  me?" 

"No,  Trevor,"  Sacha,  said,  just  as  firmly, 
though  still  lower,  and  with  a  faint  undercur* 


;-^-t 


■m 


►---r- 


■  *:v*i-- 


>?*r 


JJOO 


tTNDBR   HEALED    ORDKRS. 


If': 


'«*^ 


k^. 


k 

I: 


1^ 


rent  of  tromnknisnesH  in  her  voice.  "I  love 
to  be  with  you  hero,  but  I  will  never  mfirry 
you." 

She  na.i(l  it  ho  dofiuitely  that  the  j'oung  mau 
stfirfceil  back  in  luiaft'ected  Burprise.  He  saw  rhc 
meant  it. 

"Not  marry  me!"  he  cried,  taken  aback, 
"When  j'ou  love  me,  too!  Oh,  Sacha,  what 
on  earth  do  you  mean   by  it?" 

Saoha  put  her  hand  on  her  heart,  as  if  to  still 
its  throbbing.  But  her  answer  was  one  that 
fairly  took  his  breath  away  none  the  less  by  \t» 
utter  unexpectedness. 

"You're  rich,"  she  said,  slowly,  "quite  rich, 
Trevor,  aren't  you?" 

"Oh,  not  so  rich  as  all  that  comes  to,"  the 
stockbroker  replied,  apologetically,  as  wIid  should 
say,  AVell,  it's  not  my  own  fatdt  if  I  aui;  "but 
still — comfortably  off.  I  could  afford  to  keep 
you  in  the  position  you're  accustomed  to." 

"How  much  do  you  make  a  year?"  Sacha 
asked,  still  holding  that  throbbing  heart  and 
looking  into  his  face  appealingly. 

"Well,  it  varies,"  the  young  man  answered; 
"sometimes  more,  sometimes  less;  but  alway.s 
enoiigh  to  live  upon." 

"A  thousand  a  year,  perhaps?"  Saeha  sug- 
gested, naming  a  sum  that  to  her  mind  seemed 
princely  magnificence. 

"Oh,  yes,  a  thousand  a  year,  certainly,"  Trevor 
answered,  smiling. 

"Two  thousand?"  Sacha  put  in  with  a  gasp, 
her  heart  beginning  to  sink. 


I 


f 


i 

t 


jSSJJiaj'/iM^;; 


\  "I  lovo 
ever  marry 

3'oung  mail 
He  saw  rhc 

ken  aback, 
acha,    what 

as  if  to  still 
IS  one  that 
e  less  by  its 

'quite  rich, 

aes  to,"  the 
wfiD  should 
I  aui;  "but 

ord  to  keep 

d  to." 

=ir?"    Sacha 

■   heart   and 

1  aiisworod; 
but  always 

Saoha  sug- 
riind  seemed 

ily,"Tre\'()T 

svith  a  gasp. 


I 


f 


MMlHaaQMIMfn 


UNDER  SEALED   0.'.„  kRS. 


201 


"Oh,  yes,  two  thousand,"  the  young  man  re- 
sponded, as  carelessly  as  if  it  wore  a  mere  trifle. 
What  on  eiirth  could  she  bo  driving  at? 

"Three  thousand?"  Sacha  faltered. 

"Well,  perhaps  three  thousand,"  Trevor  ad- 
mitted, with  candor.  "Though  that  depends 
upon  the  year.  Stillj  one  time  with  another, 
1  should  say — well — j'es — about  three  thousand." 

Sacha  drew.  ;i  deep  breath.  A  pained  look 
crossed  her  face. 

"Oh,  then,  it's  quite  impossible,"  she  cried. 
"Quite,  quite  impossible." 

"Why  so,  darl"H??"  Trevor  ventured  to  ask. 
"Since  you  say  you  love  me?" 

Sacha  was  trembling  all  over.  Her  lips  looked 
deadly  pale,  But  she  forced  herself  to  speak  out, 
with  all  the  restrained  strength  of  her  strong  Rus- 
sian nature. 

"Because,  if  you're  as  rich  as  all  that,"  she 
said,  slowly,  "I  must  give  up  my  independence, 
I  must  give  up  my  individuality,  I  must  give  up 
my  creed  in  life — which  is  the  equal  freedom  of 
women  with  men — and  I  must  be  merely  your 
wife,  like  girls  who  sell  themselves  to  rich 
fools  for  a  livelihood.  What  I  cculd  earn  b)' 
my  art  would  be  a  mere  drop  in  the  bucket.  If 
ever  I  married,  I  wanted  to  marry  a  man  whose 
earnings  were  only  about  the  same  as  my  own, 
and  toward  whom  I  could  feel  like  an  equal,  a 
partner,  a  fellow  bread-winner." 

She  said  it  very  earnestly.     It  was  her  faith, . 
her  religion.     But  something  in  her  tone  made 
Trevor  Gardener  pause. 


^j  ,- 


■^.^ 


202 


UNDER   HEALED   ORDERS. 


"Is  that  all?"  lie  said  at  last,  oftur  a  lonj,', 
(loop  silence,  during  which  each  could  almost 
hear  the  other's  heart  boat. 

And  Sacha,  in  hor  perfect  truthfvdness,  was 
constraiu3d  to  answer: 

"No,  not  quite  all,  Trevor," 

"And  what'.-i  tlio  rest?"  he  asked,  eagerly, 
seizing  her  hand  again  as  he  looked.  "You  must 
tell  me  now,  darling." 

Sacha  turned  a  way  her  flushed  f  a«e.  She  dared 
not  meet  his  honest  eyes. 

"Oh,  don't  ask  me  that,  please!"  she  cried. 
"Don't  try  to  force  it  out  of  me!  I  shall  have 
a  hard  struggle  to  keep  it  in,  I  know.  But  I 
don't  want  to  tell  you." 

A  sudden  thought  flashed  all  at  ouce  across 
Trevor  Gardener's  mind.  Many  things  grew 
clear  to  him  in  one  of  those  rapid  intuitions 
that  sometimes  break  in  upon  us  at  great  critical 
momonts. 

"I  know  it!  I  know  it!"  he  criod,  eagerly. 
"You  need  say  no  more.  It's  on  account  of 
Owen!" 

"What  do  you  jnean?"  Sacha  cried,  facing 
him  in  her  terror,  and  thoroughly  frightened 
now.     "I  never /o/d  you  so." 

"No,"  the  young  man  answered.  "But  I  see 
it  for  myself.  You  don't  want  to  do  anything 
while  Owen's  future  remains  so  uncertain." 

Sacha  gazed  at  him  all  appalled.  What  had 
he  found  out  about  Owen?  She  put  forth  her 
hand  and  clutched  his  arm  in  her  nervous  ex- 
citement. 


t 


..j^:— .w..-Affe.u^  Aj?^ 


■tur  a  long, 
nliT  filmoHt 

Illness,  was 


(1,  eagerly, 
"You  must 

She  diiretl 

she  cried. 
[  shall  have 
ow.     But  I 

oiiee  across 
lings  grew 
I  intuitions 
rent  critical 

>d,  eagerly, 
account  of 


wpw 


UNDER   SEALliD   OKOERR. 


303 


"Owen's  future!"  she  cried,  deadly  pale. 
"Why,    who   told   you    timt,    1    wonder?" 

Trevor  Gardener  in  liis  turn  felt  a  sudden 
thrill  of  revelation.  There  was  more  in  this 
than  he  knew.  He  had  touched  some  strange 
chord  in  her  nature  too  lightly. 

"Sacha,"  he  exclaimed  in  a  tone  of  regret. 
"I've  done  wrong,  I  see.  But  I  didn't  know;  I 
didn't  understand  it— though  I  half  understand 
now.  But  only  half;  I  think  I  cau  partly  guess. 
Owen's  not  his  own  master.  He's  sailing,  I 
fancy,  under  sealed  orders." 

"You  have  said  it— not  I,"  Sacha  faltered,  all 
trenihling.     "I  know  no  more  than  you  do." 

The  young  man  seized  her  hand  once  more  and 
raised  it  reverently  to  his  lips. 

"I  ask  you  no  questions,"  he  said.  "I  respect 
your  xmspoken  wish.  But  some  day  this  knot, 
no  doubt,  will  unravel  itself.  Till  then  I'll  wait 
for  ybu.  Arul  if  not — why,  Sacha,  I'll  wait  for 
you  forever." 


■ied,   facing 
frightened 

"But  I  see 
o  anything 
irtain." 

AVhat  had 
ut  forth  her 
nervous  ex- 


t 


•'•m "  -y 


204 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


' 


1^ 


B. 


LWi 


i<^ 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

THE   NEMESIS   OF   CULTURE. 

In  Lmd')!!,  that  stime  aft<>rnoon,  it  occurred 
quito  ciiHiially  ta  Mr.  Henley  Stokes,  at  .'>  Pump 
Court,  Temple,  that  as  Sacha  and  lone  had  gone 
down  to  Moor  Hill  for  the  day  together.  Black- 
bird might  possibly  find  herself  rather  lonely  at 
the  flat  off  Victoria  Street.  So,  being  a  g.iod- 
natured,  though  timid  and  uu8ophi8ti(!ated  young 
man,  prone  t )  attemi)t  works  of  charity  in  how- 
ever huml'lo  a  sphere,  he  decided  with  himself, 
after  r.ii  internal  struggle,  to  step  round  to  the 
flat  and  bear  the  Cinderella  company. 

Mr.  Henley  Stokes  was  alwayn  close-shaven, 
but  seldom  did  his  face  look  so  preternaturally 
clean  and  shiny  as  on  that  particular  afternoon. 
Mr.  Henley  Stokes  wore  an  orchid  in  his  button 
hole  as  Ji  matter  of  j)rinciple — he  was  "sound," 
th('  Birmingliam  party  said,  very  sound  politi- 
cally; but  never  in  his  life  before  iiad  so  gorgeous 
an  orchid  graced  his  best  frock-coat,  or  so  glossy 
a  tall  silk  hat  pressed  the  curh  on  his  forehead. 
He  stood  long  before  the  glass  arranging  his  tie 
in  a  loose  sailor  knot  before  he  went  out;  and  as 
he  glided  along  on  the  District  Railway  in  a 


I 


■s^vitat  'arifi 


:£sW' 


MPM 


mmnffmm 


UNDKK   8KAUC1>   OHDKKH. 


205 


it  occurred 
at  T)  Pump 
le  had  gone 
her,  Bhifk- 
3r  lonely  at 
ing  a  gnod- 
!ated  young 
ity  in  how- 
th  himself, 
ound  to  the  * 

ose-shaven, 
ternaturally 
■  afternoon. 
L  his  button 
IS  "sound," 
3und  politi- 
80  gorgeous 
or  so  glossy 
is  forehead, 
giug  his  tie 
out;  and  fis 
ail  way  in  a 


first-class  carriage,  h(>  Hash»>d  his  cufTs  more  than 
once  with  uneasy  snlicituile. 

It  was  clear  that  Henley  Stokes,  good  philan- 
thropist an  he  was,  attached  much  importance  to 
saving  Hope  Braithwaite  from  the  dullness  of 
her  solitude. 

When  ho  rang  at  the  door  of  the  Hat,  Black- 
bird opened  it  to  him  herself,  and  theti  ran  back 
into  the  passage.  Her  sleeves  were  rolled  up  to 
the  ell)owH,  and  she  wore  over  her  dross  a  dainty 
cretonne  apron;  but  she  looked  as  graceful  as 
ever,  for  all  that,  in  her  lithe,  though  melan- 
choly, girlish  fashion. 

"I'm  housemaid  to-day,  you  see,"  she  said, 
somewhat  less  listlessly  than  usual,  pulling  her 
sleeves  Jown  hurriedly,  "lone  answers  the  door 
as  a  rule.  But  the  others  are  gone  awfiy.  Yoa 
must  excuse  my  appearance." 

Henley  Stokes  stammered  out  sometlung  in- 
audible about  her  appearance  reipiiring  no  apol- 
ogy— (piite  the  contrary — quite  the  contrary — 
and  followed  her  into  the  passage,  looking  in- 
tensely sheepish. 

Blackbird,  too,  had  an  air  jis  of  one  caught  at 
some  awkward  moment. 

"You  must  let  me  run  out  into  the  labnratory 
a  second,"  she  saitl,  almost  blushing  in  those 
pallid  thin  cheeks  of  hers.  "I've  something 
to  put  away  out  there.  I  ...  er  ...  I  was 
pottering  abnit  with  niy  chemicals." 

"Oh,  let  me  come  and  help  you,"  the  barrister 
put  in,  confusedly.  "Ybu  see,  I  know  all  the 
back  premises  so  well,  of  course.     I  cleared  away 


%^^M- 


■,:,-jf'.'#.»-3i#:*. 


ao;; 


6NDKH   SKALKD   OKDKU8,. 


hU  tlmt  litter  thoro  boforo  you  were  up  this  morn- 

"OU,  no,  you  iiui«tn'i  oornc,"  iUiicklnni  Prioil, 
vvjiving  him  buck;  l>iit  llio  pliilHutiiropic  young 
iiuiii  wouldn't  l)r..ok  bi«inj,'5,'iiinHiiii.  He  lollowcd 
li«r  out  inli)  tlio  littlo  piintry  -'or  it  whs  really 
Molhint,'  niore-iind  hclpi>d  lu>i  to  take  off  the 
quuiT  thiu^fH  aim  wuh  bivwiiig. 

It  WHS  only  ca.Huaily  as  bo  did  ho  tluit  ho  hap- 
ponod  to  observe  slie  had  l)eeu  distilling  some- 
thing greenish  from  h  heaj)  of  bruised  loaves. 
A  book  of  directions  lay  open  on  the  table  at 
"Hydroeya/iii-  Aeid."  A  smell  us  of  laurel- 
water  jH'rvade.l   t!ie  liltlo  laboratory. 

Hut  at  the  moment  lleidey  Stokos  hardly 
heeded  theso  details.  His  mind  was  too  much 
occupiod— s »  ho  thought  just  then— with  more 
important  matters. 

They  cleared  away  the  moss,  strained  the  water 
from  the  bruised  leaves,  and  put  the  still  she  had 
btH3u  working  with  into  the  corner  cupi)oiird. 
Then  JJIaekbird  suddenly  transformed  herself 
into  a  drawing-room  lady.  She  looked  lier 
great  mass  of  black  hair  about  her  face  and 
hhouhkMs,  pidled  otV  her  pretty  .ii)ron,  repbiced 
her  white  cults,  and  went  back  to  the  front  room, 
f  jUowed  close  by  her  visitor. 

Then  she  flung  herself,  -is  was  her  wont,  into 
the  long  wicker  chair,  and  clasped  her  handti 
Iwhind  her  head. 

"You  louk  tired,"  Henley  Stokes  ventured  to 
murmur,  .sympathotii-ally. 

"Yes,  tired!"   she  echoed,   closing  her  ey^; 


^i 


SJ^y^TPtp 


if    T* 


^tV-t-  - 


.^J^.'K';^.  Vi'fc.%%- 


.•L^J, 


Kt. 


cup  this  morn 


liu'khinl  priod, 
itliroj)i(;  young 
[  ll»<f()llom.(l 
>r  it  WHS  really 
ij  take  off  tlio 

lo  tlmt  ho  }iap- 
i stilling  sonio- 
ruisoil  loaves. 
1  the  table  at 
us  of  laurel- 
ory. 

■Jtokoa  hardly 
was  too  much 
m — with  more 

ined  the  water 
le  still  hIio  had 
ler  Pupboiird. 
arniod  licrsclf 
e  looHed  her 
hor  i'acf3  and 
pron,  rephiced 
le  front  room, 

wr  wont,  into 
ed  her  handfi 

(8  ventured  to 

ing  her  ey^; 


•"^mm 


UNDRR   SKALRT)   OKDRKH. 


207 


"very  tirod,  indeed!"  in  a  voice  of  nthnr  IprhI- 
tude.  "When  wasn't  I  tired,  I  shoulil  like  to 
know?"  slio  added,  almoHt  fier;-;'ly.  "I  was 
horn  tired,  I  heliove.  At  any  rate,  I've  l)(>en 
tired  over  sim^o;  as  long  as  [  can  r(mionih<>r,  I've 
hoen  tired  uninterni[)t<'dly.  Dead  tired!  Dog 
tired.     It's  the  epitome  of  my  existence!" 

The  young  man  leaned  across  toward  her. 

"Miss  Hraithwaite,"  he  began,  half  tenderly. 

Blackbird  liftt>d  her  lids,  looked  up  at  hirn,  and 
Ibvshed  fire  from  h(>r  lustrous  eyes. 

"How  8trang(i  it  is,"  she  cried,  i)etidantly, 
"that  you  call  both  the  others  by  their  Christian 
names;  but  you  call  nw,  as  if  on  purpose,  so 
stitfly,  Miss  Hraithwaite.  Do  you  do  it  inten- 
tionally?    Why  thin  invidious  distinction?" 

"Invidious!"  Henley  answered,  taken  aback. 
"Oh,  no,  it  isn't  invidious.  T  ciuld  hardly  ex- 
plain to  you  the  reason  just  yot;  hut  it's  because 
.  .  .  .  well,  because  I  respect  and  like  you  so 
much.  When  you  respect  a  woman  immensely, 
don't  you  know,  you  .  .  .  or  .  .  .  are  afraid  to 
take  lilMjrtios  with  hor." 

"I  d(<n't  ask  you  to  take  .  ..erties,"  Hlackhird 
cried,  half  jmuting.  "You  take  no  liherties 
with  Sacha." 

"Dear  mo,  no,"  Hen'ey  answered,  submis- 
sively, with  a  smile  at  the  bare  idea.  "I  can't 
imagine  any  one  brave  enough  to  take  liberties 
with  Miss  Cazalet." 

"And  yot  you  call  her  Sacha,"  Blackbird  re- 
torted, unci'ossing  and  recrossing  her  hands  with 
nervous  agitation. 


'iLIt     ..«•■■&'• 


20H 


UNDKK   HRAI.KI)   OKDKHH. 


"Wi'll,  r.l  .nil  you  ll.,p<. -if  1  (liinMl,"  the 
youii^  tiiun  Kiiiil,  Hhyly. 

lUiickhinl  firi'd  up  ut  t!i<*  woril. 

"Ilopo!"  hIi(<  crifd,  with  a  wihl  ^'osturo  of  ro- 
pulHu -"Hi>p(tl  Hopt'I  mill  to  iMi>!  TIk^v  chriHt- 
en«(l  me  JIopo,  ilid  tlicy!'  Tlii»y  nhouhl  liiivn 
onHod  mn  l)»>spiiir.  It  wouM  have  hoon  much 
nion>  iipprr)|(iiHtt>." 

Hcnhiy  StokoH  hiokod  pityiiijj;ly  ut  hur  from 
thorn)  honest  kiud  ryps  of  hin. 

"No,  no,"  ho  put  in  hnstily.  "Don't  Hiiy  thnt, 
ph'iiHO  .  .  .  lihickhird.  1  niiiy  call  you  lUack- 
hird?  <  )ii,  thauk  you.  It'a  ho  kiud  of  you.  .  .  . 
And  you  know  why  I  novci*  callt'd  you  Blackhird 
before,  till  this  vory  day,  though  all  tho  othoix 
did,  and  though  I  called  tho  others  lono  und 
Hacha.  You //i».s7  know.  Can't  you  guoss?  It 
isn't  very  ditFicidt." 

Bhickhird  shook  lu«r  head  sturdily.  This  was 
a  had  afternoon  with  her. 

"Well,  hocauso  I  lovod  you,  then,"  Honley 
Stokos  went  on.  "And  when  a  man  roally  lovos 
a  f^irl,  ho's  u  thousand  times  more  particular 
ahoiit  what  ho  says  or  dops  to  her — a  thousand 
times  more  careful  of  her  dignity  and  her  sanctity 
— than  with  all  tho  others." 

He  spoko  rapidly,  thickly,  hut  -yith  a  mingled 
earnestness  and  nervousness  that  might  have 
melted  a  stono.  And  ho  watched  Blackhird's 
face  as  ho  spoke,  not  daring  to  take  her  hand, 
though  it  lay  on  the  wicker  ledge  of  the  long 
low  chair,  just  six  inches  from  his  own.  He 
was  trembling  all  over.     Blackbird  saw  his  eyes 


r'„Vr';i^»,  !4ii*rn^)tr^"^^:&M 


m. 


I   (limMl," 


1  (jfcHturo  of  ro- 

Tlioy  cliriHt- 

shoiild    liiivit 

^e  beon  much 

lit  hur  from 

)()n't  Hfiy  tlint, 
ill  yon  JUat'k- 
I  of  you.  ,  .  . 
you  Bliic'khird 
all  tho  others 
lors  lono  unci 
'ou  gnows?     It 

ly.     Thin  was 

lion,"  Ilonley 
in  roally  lovos 
are  particular 
— a  thouaaiid 
1  her  sanctity 

ith  a  miuf^K'd 
might  have 
I  Blackhird's 
ike  her  hand, 
i  of  the  long 
lis  own.  He 
I  saw  his  eyes 


rMDBK  MKALRP   oKDKRS. 


209 


glnnoo  for  n  second  at  thoso  thin  whito  fingcrH, 
as  it"  in  doubt  wliothcr  t  >  claHp  tii(>n\  or  not— and 
withdrew  them  hurrit>dly.  Ilcnlcy  not<»d  the 
action  and  Highod.  Tiiort'  wan  a  1  >ng,  doe), 
pauri(\  'i'hen  Blackliird  hcgari  once  more  in 
her  W(^ary  voict): 

"Why  ilo  you  say  thoso  things  to  mo?" 

"I've  told  you,"  tho  yoimg  man  answorod, 
tlirilling.     "  Because  I  lovo  you,  Blackbird." 

iMackl)ird  raised  Iut  white  hand — thin,  deli- 
cate, blue- veined — and  snapix'd  one  .^lender  mid- 
dle-finger against  the  tluunb,  most  daintily.  In 
liny  other  woman,  the  action  would  have  been 
trivial — nay,  almost  vulgar.  In  Blimkbird,  it 
seemed  so  spiritualized  and  etherealized  by  the 
length  and  tliinnesH  of  the  fingers  that  Henley's 
heart  only  sank  at  it. 

"Love!"  she  cried,  writh  a  sudden  outburst. 
'"Love!  Love!  What  is  it?  Pain  I  know,  and 
Sleep  I  know — but  Sleep  less  well  than  I'ain;  but 
Pleasure  and  Love  —  in  iiii/  world,  they  are 
not." 

Henley  Stokes  gazed  down  upon  her  with  eyes 
of  infinite  pity.  This  strange  aerial  creature,  all 
music  and  thought,  with  no  body  to  speak  of, 
had  j'et  a  strange  fascination  fir  the  woil-dressed. 
Well-to-do,  simple-hearted  man-about-town.  Slio 
hiK.  the  double  attraction  of  novelty  and  c."U- 
trast.  She  was  not  in  th(>  least  like  himself, 
not  tho  least  like  anybody.  She  was  unicpie, 
unmatchablo.  But  he  hardly  knew  what  to  say, 
all  the  same,  to  so  curious  an  outbreak. 

"Sleep,  you  know!"  he  murmured  low.    "And 


■M 


i^:g--^  -■: 


Mi 


210 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


ft-  1«^ 


U:- 


'7%, 


ia  that  tht  very  nearest  you  ever  get  to  Pleasure, 
Blackbird  y" 

The  girl  threw  back  her  well-poised  head, 
turned  up  her  lustrous  eyes,  and  displayed  un- 
consciously to  the  best  advantage  that  full  and 
hisciouL4  throat  whicli  marks  the  vocalist's  tem- 
perament. 

"The  vei-y  uearost  I  ever  get  to  it,"  she  an- 
swered, slowly.  "Yes,  the  very,  very  nearest." 
She  clasped  her  blue-veined  hands  behind  her 
head  once  more,  and  closed  her  big  eyes  dream- 
ily. Henley  longed  to  stoop  over  her  and  kiss 
the  full  throat,  in  his  pure  warm  passion,  but 
his  heart  misgave  him.  Blackbird  drew  a  deep 
breath  or  two,  her  bosom  rose  and  fell.  She 
sighed  as  naturally  as  though  no  one  were  look- 
ing on.  She  was  too  modern,  too  weak,  too  frail, 
to  be  afraid  of  him.  "No,  I  don't  often  sleep," 
she  went  on,  as  if  two-thirds  to  herself,  "Most- 
ly, now,  I  lie  awake  and  repeat  those  sweet  lines 
from  Andrew  Lang's  Ballade,  that  I  set  to  musicu: 

"  Shy  dreams  flit  to  and  fro 
With  sliadowy  Jiair  disproad  : 
WitK  wistl'iil  eyes  that  glow, 
And  silent  robes  that  sweep. 
Tlioii  wilt  not  hear  me  :  no? 
Wilt  thou  not  hear  me,  Sleep?" 


m- 


But  sometimes,  at  last,  I  doze  off  for  au  hour 
or  two;  and  then  it's  all  so  beautiful — so  soft, 
80  heavenly.  Perhaps  I  may  dream,  and  even 
dreams  are  delicious;  for  dream,  too,  is  from 
Zeus,  as  Agamemnon  says  to  Calchas,  in  the 


fpfspipifll 


RS. 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


211 


et  to  Pleasure, 

l-poised  head, 
displayed  un- 
that  full  and 

vocalist's  tem- 

to  it,"  she  an- 
very  nearest." 
ds  behind  her 
ig  eyes  dream- 
>r  her  and  kiss 
ri  passion,  but 
d  drew  a  deep 
and  fell.  She 
one  were  look- 
veak,  too  frail, 
t  often  sleep," 
irself.  "Most- 
ose  sweet  lines 
I  set  to  musics 


1: 


f  for  au  hour 
itiful — so  soft, 
jam,  and  even 
,  too,  is  from 
alchas,  in  the 


Iliad.  But  oftenep  I  fall  asleep  and  lie  like  a 
lof?  for  an  hour  or  two  without  kuowinjif  it  at  all 
— just  the  same  as  if  I  were  dead;  and  that's 
loveliest  of  everything.  Perhaps  the  reason  I 
love  Sleep,  gentle  Sleep,  so  well  is  because  ho 
seems  to  promise  Death,  too,  will  be  gentle." 

"Oh,  don't  talk  like  tliat,  Blackbird,"  Henley 
cried,  clasping  his  hands  together  in  genuine  dis- 
tress. "When  ym  speak  so  it  frightens  me.  At 
your  ago  it  isn't  natural." 

But  Blackbird  was  now  enjoying  the  one 
tremulous  joy  she  really  knew — that  of  pour- 
ing forth  her  sad  soul  like  a  nightingale  in  the 
woods,  to  a  sympathetic  listener,  and  jhe  wasn't 
going  to  he  balked  of  her  amusement  for  so 
little.  , 

"Just  think  how  delicious  it  would  be,"  she 
went  on,  still  dreamily,  with  eyes  tight  shut, 
and  head  thrown  back  inert  on  the  padded  chair, 
"to  lie  down  like  this  and  p^ow  drowsy,  drowsy, 
drowsy;  and  bo  dimly  conscious  one  need  never 
wake  up  again,  or  move  one's  tired  limbs,  or  get 
botliered  with  thinking!  How  delicious  to  feel, 
without  even  knowing  it,  the  grass  growing  green 
above  one's  weary  limbs ;  to  rest  on  a  bed  one  need 
never  leave;  to  be  at  peace  at  last,  all  peace,  and 
forever  I" 

"Blackbird!"  the  young  man  said,  "if  you 
talk  so,  you'll  kill  me!" 

"What  a  service  I  should  be  doing  you!" 
Blackbird  answered,  all  at  once  opening  her 
eyes  and  gazing  hard  at  him.  "Don't  you 
think  it's  one  of  the  worst  miseries  of  our  life 


m^-'^^i^sM.: 


21.i 


UNDER   SEALED   OnuuMH. 


'$  i:^ 


here  on  earth  to  be  told  from  time  to  time  how 
others  have  died — thi.s  one  first,  siud  then  that 
one — and  to  romembor  all  the  while  that  years 
upon  years  may  have  to  pass  before  ever  we 
can  follow  them?" 

Henley  Stokes  leaned  across  to  her  in  genuine 
distress.     But  he  changed  the  key  suddenly. 

"Blackbird,"  he  began,  in  a  very  abrupt  tone 
— ho  loved  to  repeat  that  name,  now  he  had  once 
summoned  up  coiu-age  to  call  her  by  it — "don't 
you  want  to  be  loved?  Don't  you  long,  oh,  ever 
BO  much,  for  some  one  to  love  you?" 

To  his  immense  surprise.  Blackbird  clinched 
her  liands  hard,  and  sat  upright  in  her  seat  with 
unexpected  energy. 

"Long  for  it!"  she  cried,  a  passionate  wave 
surging  over  her  pale  face.  "Hunger  and  thirst 
for  it !  Pine  and  die  for  it!  From  my  babyhood 
upward,  I've  been  yearning  to  bo  loved.  I  want 
somebody  to  sympathize  with  me,  to  pet  me,  to 
be  f.^nd  of  me!" 

"And  now  you've  got  it!"  Henley  Stukes 
murmured,  slowly. 

"And  now  I've  got  it,"  Blackbird  answered. 
(Was  ever  so  strange  a  wooing?)  She  thrust 
her  clinched  little  fists  in  her  cheeks  and  bit  her 
lip  till  it  bled.  "Oh,  you  poor,  poor  soul,"  she 
cried,  "what  on  earth  can  I  say  to  you?" 

"Don't  you  like  me?"  the  young  man  asked, 
bending  over  her. 

"Like  you!"  Blackbird  echoed;  "if  anyone 
will  love  me,  I  could  devour  him,  I  could  wor- 
ship him !     I  could  fall  down  before  him  and  let 


ii^iiiii  ^  II  HM 


.-,J'^MMf  1  .'r^L 


<Hii  I   (flffmj^  rip  -,  IIHIIIIWIWHIIJI  illHlUlJMlWf  ^V 


tts. 

0  to  time  how 
iiud  then  that 
lile  that  years 
jefore  ever  we 

her  in  genuine 
suddenlj'. 
>fy  abrupt  tone 
>\v  he  had  once 

•  by  it— "don't 
long,  oh,  ever 

?" 

kbird  clinched 

1  her  seat  with 

issionate  wave 
Igor  and  thirst 
I  my  babyhood 
loved.  I  want 
,  to  pet  me,  to 

[lenley  Stukea 

)ird  answered. 
?)  She  thrust 
}ks  and  bit  her 
)Oor  soul,"  she 

•  you?" 

g  man  asked, 

I;  "if  any  one 
1,  I  could  wor- 
»re  him  and  let 


UNDER   SEALED    ORDERS. 


2i:} 


him  trample  me  to  death!  I  could  kill  myHolf 
bj'  slow  t-trture  for  him!' 

Dimly  even  then,  Henley  Stokes  was  aware  that 
in  the  midst  of  these  ardent  protestations,  true 
and  heartfelt  as  they  wore,  the  poor  cliild  was 
thinking  of  herself  all  the  time,  not  of  him;  but 
he  \vi\s  too  preoccupied  for  his  own  part  with 
Blackbird's  sorrows  to  be  definitely  conscious  of 
that  strange;  limitation. 

"And  you'll  love  me?"  he  cried,  liis  heart 
coming  up  into  his  mouth  for  joy.  'Oh,  say 
you  won't  refuse  to  let  me  love  you?" 

"Love  you!"  Blackbird  answered,  clasping 
her  hands  on  her  knees,  and  sitting  up  slill  to 
look  straight  at  him.  "Why,  I  can't  help  lov- 
ing you  If  a  crossing-sweeper  were  to  lovo  me, 
I  must  love  him  in  reiurn,  I  yearn  so  for  sym- 
pathy. And  v/o» — I  lovo  you— oh,  yes;  oh,  ever 
so  much!  I'm  so  grateful  to  you;  s>  pleased 
with  you!" 

"And  I  may  take — just  one,"  the  young  man 
said,  pleading  hard  and  leaning  forward  tenta- 
tively. 

At  that  movement,  ever  so  slight,  Blackbird 
drew  back,  all  abashed.  The  bare  proposal 
seemed  to  shock  her — nay,  almost  frightened 
her.     She  trembled  all  over. 

"Oh,  no,"  she  cried,  aghast.  "Not  that— - 
that,  never.  I'm  so  grateful  for  your  love. 
But  you  didn't  want — to  /./.s.v  me!" 

She  said  it  with  an  accent  of  reproach — almost 
of  positive  disgust.  But  Henley  Stokes  was 
more  human. 


\*:-;X:  ;»^!!;:a 


^■Wf***!* 


214 


UNDER   HEALED   OUDBES. 


.  "Well,  yes,  I  did,"  he  said,  stoutly,  with  the 
unr«gonemto  Hiiiiplicity  of  a  fieah  -  and  -  blood 
young  man.  "Tliat  was  just  what  I  meant. 
I  vvantod  t:)  kiss  you,  Blackbird." 

The  girl  shrank  back  into  the  chaii',  like  oue 
cowed. 

"Oh,  you  niisuiidoi'staiul!"  she  cried,  in  an 
almost  agonized  voice.  "I  only  meant  I  lori'if 
you.  I  clidii't  moan  I  could  A/.s-.s-.  Such  thiu}.';ii 
as  that  must  never  come  in  between  us!" 

It  wa.s  Henley's  turn  now  to  draw  back,  as- 
tonished. 

"But  ...  I  took  this  as  a  proposal, "  he  fal- 
tered out,  slowly;  "and  ...  I  thought  .  .  . 
you  accepted  me.  If  we're  to  consider  ourselves 
engaged — why,  surely,  surely,  I  ought  to  kis  i 
you." 

"Engaged!"  Blackbii'd  repeated,  in  a  tone  of 
unutterable  contempt.  "What";  Engaged!  to 
be  married!  .  .  .  Oh,  no,  dear,  dear  friend!  I 
never  dreamed  oven  of  that.  It's  impossible. 
Impossible!     Wholly,  wholly  iinpos.sible!" 

"Why?"  Henley  Stokes  asked,  all  trembling. 
This  riddle  was  too  hard  for  him.  What  a  grand 
creature  she  was,  to  be  sui'el  Ho  could  never 
understand  her! 

Instead  of  answering  him,  Blackbird  burst  into 
a  sudden  flood  ot  tears. 

"Oh,  I  can't  tell  you  to-daj',"  she  sobbed  out, 
holding  his  hand,  and  rising.  "I'm  so  happy — 
so  happy.  So  much  happier  than  1  ever  was  in 
my  life  1  of  ore.  Now  I  know  at  last  what  hap- 
piness  means.     Don't  let  me  kill   it  outright. 


\ 


*ry/. 


ontly,  with  the 

eah  -  and  -  blood 

vh.it   I   ineant. 

I." 

chuir,  liko  one 

le  criud,   in  iin 
meant  I  lored 

.     Such  things 

(en  us!'"' 
draw  back,  as- 

)posal,"  ho  fal- 

[  thought  .  .  . 

isider  ourselves 

ought  to  kis  i 

ad,  in  a  tone  of 
Engaged !    to 

dear  friend!   I 

[t's  impossible. 

possible!" 

,  all  trembling. 
What  a  grand 

lo  could  never 

cbird  burst  into 

she  sobbed  out, 
I'm  so  happy — 
I  1  ever  was  in 
last  what  hap- 
ill   it  outright. 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


216 


{ 


Don't  let  me  spoil  it  oy  telling  you  why  an 
engagement's  impossible."  And  she  i  tshed 
over  to  the  piano,  throbbing  and  sobbing  liko 
a  child,  and  took  refuge  in  a  weird  piece  of  her 
own  melancholy  music. 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

THE     !•  A  T  H     OF     DUTY. 

That  evening  lone  went  back  to  tawn,  and 
Owen  was  left  by  himself  at  the  Red  Cottage. 
He  had  a  bad  half  hour,  as  soon  as  she  was  gone, 
with  his  accusing  const^ience.  .\nd  what  was 
worse,  the  bad  half  hour  lengthened  itself  out  by 
degrees  into  a  sleepless  night,  in  the  course  of 
which  Owen  toased  and  turned,  and  got  no  rest 
for  his  poor  brain,  thinking  feverishly  of  the 
Cause,  and  Mr.  Hayward  betrayed,  and  bleed- 
itig  Russia,  abandoned  to  her  fate,  and  .  .  . 
lone  Dracopoli'b  sweet  smile  of  sunshine. 

Yes,  try  as  he  would,  he  couldn't  get  lono 
Dracopoli's  pretty  face  out  of  his  head  for  a  min- 
ute. He  knew  it  was  wrong;  but  he  couldn't 
help  it.  He  was  in  love  with  lone,  very  deeply 
in  love;  but  to  what  end  could  it  lead  him?  He 
was  ashamed,  himself,  even  to  put  the  question. 


»j,fi 


mmmmmmmi 


21C 


UNDER   SEALKD   ORDERS 


For,  ns  ho  lay  luvfiko  there  in  his  hod,  running 
over  hirt  hazardous  nMo  in  life,  ho  wfis  conscious 
of  one  wicked,  one  hack-sliding  preoccupation  he 
thout?ht  most  now,  'ut  of  hetrnj'al  to  the  Cause, 
hut  of  rjcks  ahoad  for  lone. 

That  was  in  trutli  the  very  head  and  front  of 
hid  olfendiiig.  He  loved  Ime.  But  how  cjuld 
ho  ever  hope  even  in  the  dim  future  to  marry 
her?  He  oughtn't  to  have  allowed  himself  to 
give  way  as  ho  did  to-day;  their  lips  tihould 
never  have  met;  those  last  fatal  words  of  avowal 
should  never  have  heen  spoken.  For  lone's  sake, 
not  for  the  Cause's!  For  this  fresh  Greek  Circe 
was  clearly  leading  him  on  into  a  hopeless  love- 
affair.  He  could  never  marry  anybody;  he  saw 
thai  (piito  clearly  now.  His  whole  life  wa.s 
mortgaged  Just  in  proiK)rtion  as  ho  hjved  loiio 
did  the  feeling  grow  stronger  from  hnir  to  hour 
upon  him  that  he  could  never  ask  any  woman  on 
earth  t)  share  his  peril jUS  fat'.i  with  him.  Ho 
must  go  through  life  with  a  halter  round  his 
nock ;  he  must  tread  the  crumbling  ash  on  the 
brink  of  a  volcano.  Any  day  he  might  he  called 
upon  to  strike  that  blow  for  Russia;  and  success 
must  mean  death — a  felon's  death  amid  tlio 
hushed,  half-admiring  execration  of  all  civilized 
Europe.  For  himself,  that  was  nothing;  ho  had 
been  accustomed  to  the  idea  in  his  own  mind  so 
long,  and -had  heard  its  glories  painted  in  such 
glowing  colors  by  tlie  man  he  most  respected 
and  revered  on  earth,  that  it  had  no  greater  ter- 
rors for  him  than  the  idea  of  activ^e  service  has 
for  the  born  soldier.     But  for  lone — ah,  that  was 


-iia_ 


is  1)0(1,  running 
I  was  conscious 
•eoccupation  he 
1  to  the  Cause, 

,(i  and  front  of 
But  how  cjuld 
tare  to  marry 
v^ed  himself  to 
nr  lips  tilioukl 
ords  of  avowal 
for  loue's  sake, 
sh  Greek  Circo 
,  hopeless  love- 
j'body ;  he  saw 
i^liole  life  was 
:i  ho  hjvod  loiio 
in  hnxr  to  hour 
any  woman  on 
vith  him.  lie 
liter  round  his 
ling  ash  on  tho 
night  he  called 
ia;  and  success 
ath    amid    tiio 

of  all  civilized 
othing;  ho  had 
is  own  mind  so 
painted  in  sutdi 
most  respected 

no  greater  ter- 
ive  service  has 
) — ah,  that  was 


UNDER   SBAI^KD   OKDERS. 


817 


different  —  how  different,  oh,  how  different. 
Could  he  expose  her  to  8uc\j  a  risk,  such  a  strain, 
such  a  catastrophe? 

Happy,  whole-hearted,  eas3'--going  English  lad 
that  he  was,  he  had  sat  constantly  without  one 
qualm  on  a  barrel  of  gunpowder. 

For  the  very  first  time  in  his  life,  howover,  on 
his  bed  that  night,  Owen  thought  tho  whole  thing 
out  to  himselfi  quite  definitely  and  in  full  detail. 
Let  him  get  into  the  diplomatic  service,  for  ex- 
ample— and  be  engaged  to  lone.  Suppose,  then, 
the  Chance — that  supreme  Chance  of  his  life,  to 
which  he  had  been  taught  from  childhood  to  look 
forward  to  with  eagerness,  should  arrive  during 
tho  years  while  he  was  still  waiting  for  lone. 
He  (flapped  his  hands  on  his  eyes,  pressing  the 
pupils  hard,  and  pictured  the  whole  scene  to  him- 
self vividly,  graphically.  He  saw  it  unfold  itself 
before  his  mental  vision  in  long  panorama  as  it 
might  actually  occur.  He  realized  his  Mission 
with  intense  actuality. 

He  stood  in  a  ball-room,  at  Vienna,  he  would 
suppose—or  no,  in  a  great  hall  of  the  palace  at 
Laeken,  on  the  hill  liehind  Brussels,  some  early 
suunner  evening.  Principalities  and  powers 
floated  before  his  eye,  glittering  with  such 
garish  decorations  as  the  essenti>xlly  barbaric ' 
royal  mind  delights  in.  Then  in  uniform  clus- 
tered in  groups  with  gay  ladies  in  court  dress ; 
he  saw  the  glare  of  diamonds,  the  flash  of  scarlet 
facings.  Aides-de-camp  and  chamberlains  jostled 
page  and  lackey.  At  one  end,  embodied  Bel- 
gium stood,  awkwardly  regal,  with  All  the  Rus- 


■f 


II- 
II 


918 


VNnKR  8RALRD  OKDKR8. 


sias  by  his  side,  nmoiifj:  a  tinsel  ttirouj?  of  \An7.- 
inp  stars  uiid  orders..  Kvory  gewgaw  thatiriiikcM 
majesty  fi>r  the  vulgar  mind  contribute('  its  part 
to  that  brave  show  —  dross,  feathers,  swords, 
music,  the  loud  blare  of  tho  band,  the  dazzling 
Bplondor  of  elei-trie  light,  the  pomp  of  sewor  and 
seneschal,  the  powdered  checks  and  scented  bos- 
oms of  beautiful  women. 

And  through  the  midst  of  it  all,  as  in  a  prophetic 
haze,  Owen  saw  himself  strolling  calmly  in  his 
Foreign  Office  uniform— an  alien  element,  tall, 
broad-built,  c  mtemptuous,  looking  down  from 
his  stately  eminence  of  six  feet  two,  as  was  his 
wont,  on  the  surging  mob  of  smaller  folk  aroimd 
him.  Ho  crossed  the  floor  again  atid  again,  with 
his  ea«y  gliding  tread,  and  a  smile  on  his  lips, 
stopping  here  to  murmur  a  nord  or  two  in  his 
purest  Parisian  to  an  embassador's  wife,  or  there 
t.)  address  a  few  guttural  compliments  to  a  High 
Wellborn  Countess  or  a  Serene  Altitude.  Then 
all  of  a  sudden — a  pause,  a  hush,  a  movement! 
All  the  Russias,  star-bedizened,  strides  slowly 
down  the  midst,  through  a  lane  that  opens  def- 
erential, spontaneous,  automatic — a  Queen  Con- 
sort on  his  arm — there,  before  him,  the  Enemy. 
.  .  .  Owen  stands  by,  and  sees  the  Chance  arrive. 
The  Victim  passes  close  to  him.  Quick  as  thought 
out  with  the  sword — no  tailor's  toy,  but  a  ser- 
viceable blade  hanging  trusty  by  his  side — or 
else,  still  better,  up  with  tho  avenging  revolver 
from  his  waistcoat  breast,  and  .  .  .  crjish  ...  it 
buries  itself  in  the  tyrant's  bosom.  Then  a 
noise,  a  commotion,  a  rushing  up  on  all  sides. 


JE ii.',  >,, 


i'-\'. 


3^fr 


irouj?  of  l)U\z- 

iw  tlmtinakcH 
biihv'  its  part 
tierri,  Bwords, 
,  tlio  dazzling 
of  Howor  and 
1  scented  boH- 

in  aprophotio 
Oidmly  in  hiH 
olouumt,  tidl, 
f<  down  from 
i^o,  as  WI18  his 
»r  folk  around 
d  again,  with 
e  on  his  lips, 
or  two  in  his 
wife,  or  tijor» 
nts  to  a  High 
bitude.  Then 
a  movement! 
strides  slowly 
liat  opens  def- 
ft  Queen  Con- 
,  the  Enemy, 
/hance  arrive, 
ick  as  thought 
y,  but  a  ser- 
his  side — or 
iging  revolver 
.  cnish  ...  it 
3m,  Then  a 
<  on  all  sides. 


MMIIP 


■^ 


Ki~: 


'*m- 


UNDKR   SEALED   ORDERS. 


n» 


Blood  gurgles  from  a  wound;  angry  hands  lie 
hard  on  the  avongor's  shoulder.  Owen  li»t«  the 
revolver  fall,  and  stands,  arms  crossed,  smiling 
scornfully.  Let  them  do  their  worst  now,  Rus- 
sia is  vindicated,  and  justice  has  wreaked  her 
will  on  tlie  chief  executioner. 

Ho  hud  seen  that  picture  before  more  than  once 
in  his  day-dreams— had  never  at  all  so  clearly. 
He  had  vvatchtul  the  man  drop;  ho  had  stood  so, 
bolt  upright,  tall,  strong,  calm,  triumphant,  con- 
scious of  right  on  his  side,  a  willing  martyr  to  a 
groat  Cause,  looking  down  with  cold  disdain  on 
scared  flunkeys  around  him.  But  never  till  to- 
night had  he  noticed  sj  plainly  blood  oozing  out 
of  the  wound,  horrid  filth  on  the  floor,  the  terri- 
fied faces  of  pale  women  behind,  the  hatetul  phys- 
ical accompaniments  of  a  political  assassination. 
He  had  thought  of  himself  ah-nys  till  then  as  the 
central  figure  of  the  scene — avenging  democracy 
personified  and  victorious.  To-night,  he  was 
somehow  more  conscious  of  his  victim  as  well ; 
t»ad  though  he  roc  jgnized  the  man  still  as  a  crim- 
inal to  be  punished,  without  fear  or  remorse,  ho 
remembered  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  that  even 
an  Autocrat  is  human,  built  up  of  nnl  blood  and 
warm  fiesh,  as  ire  are. 

But  that  wasn't  the  point,  either,  that  made 
him  pause  the  most.  You  may  w.>ndor  at  it,  of 
course;  but  consider  his  upbringing!  It  was 
lone  he  thought  of,  now.  What  would  lone  say 
of  it?  Could  he  fancy  himself,  so  loving  her, 
engaged  to  her,  bound  to  her — yet  committing 
that  act,  and  bringing  all  that  misery  on  her  iu- 


i^ii^^ftmrnmsi  - 


^&^^  "i'/^'C^ 


990 


UNDER  HRAKKI)   OKDKIIH. 


nwnnt  hfml !"  For  hcc  what  it  meant !  lono  in 
London  I. me  wiilkiiifjfdown  VictnriuSU'tH't  I  A 
pliu-ard  at  tho  croHsiiigs,  laid  flat  on  tlio  muddy 
ground!  "AsHnHrfination  of  the  Czar,"  in  j^roat 
Harinff  i-fd  l(*tt('i>i!  Sho  l)nyrt  a  paper  —  teaiH 
it  open,  tluMi  and  thtm-,  all  trembling'.  That 
lauf^httir-lovinK  face  grown  white  aH  death;  those 
plump  hands  quiver  horrilj^v.  "Owen  Cazalet, 
an  attache  at  the  EnjjfliHh  Eml)a.s:<y— oauBe  of 
crime  unknown  —  HU8pecte<l  madnoHS."  She 
clutc'heH  the  nearest  railing?  with  one  hand  for 
bupport.  ( )wou  caught  and  arrested.  So  that's 
the  end  of  her  cherished  love-dream ! 

And  then,  a  lonf<  trial.  xVccornplices,  princi- 
pals. Mr.  Hayward,  of  Bond  StrtHJt,  a  Russian 
Nihilist  in  disguise,  iu  correspondence  witlithe 
prisoner.  All  the  world  looks  on  eager.  But 
Where's  the  glory  of  it  now?  Who  cares  for 
martynlom,  who  cares  for  death,  who  cares  for 
«luty,  who  cares  for  Russia  free — if  lone  sits 
white  in  the  crammed  court,  meanwhile,  wait- 
ing pale  as  a  corjjse  for  that  inevitable  aontence? 

Execution;  triumph;  and  lone  left  miserable 
and  heart-brok(>n  behind!  Oh,  why  did  he  ever 
meet  her?  Why  did  he  ever  allow  himself  that 
day  to  be  dragged  into  it? 

Take  hands,  and  part  with  laughter;  touch  lips, 
and  part  with  tears.  They  too  had  touched  lips, 
and  this  would  be  the  upshot. 

Or,  perhaps,  it  might  come  biter;  for  Mr.  Hay- 
ward  had  warned  him  never  to  count  upon  the 
Chance  as  certain,  or  to  seize  it  prematurely, 
but  to  watch  and  wait,  watch  and   wait  with 


; 


:iii 


er,"'<t%  r'tii  ilVf 


ant !  lono  in 
•in  SU'iH't  I  A 
>n  tlio  nmddy 
5jir, "  in  ({rent 
piipor  —  ttiarH 
iblin^'.  That 
^  tloiit  li ;  tlioKO 
)wou  Crtzalot, 
■^r*y — oaiiHo  of 
Inoss."  She) 
ono  hand  for 
kI.  So  that's 
i! 

plicoH,  princi- 
■et,  a  Russian 
entro  witlj,  the 
eager.  But 
'^ho  viiren  for 
who  cares  for 
-if  lone  sits 
n while,  wait- 
ible  aontencey 
eft  miserablo 
y  did  he  over 
'  himself  that 

er;  touch  lips, 
touched  lips, 

for  Mr.  Hay- 
mnt  upon  the 

prematurely, 
id  wait  with 


rrp 


I 


UNDKll  .SUALUI)   (>KDKR3. 


Mt 


patience,  till  opportunity  brought  occasion  pat 
round  at  the  one  apt  moment.  Ho  might  have 
got  on  by  then,  lot  u.s  suj)poHn-  -and  liavo  nifirritil 
lone.  Hut  how  marry  any  woman  with  such  n 
hazard  an  that  over  vagutly  in  store  for  her? 
How  jeopardize  her  happiness  every  day  of  ono'.s 
life?  How  trust  her,  oven,  to  keep  the  atvfiil 
secret,  and  not  interfere  to  prevent  the  roaliz.i- 
tion  of  his  puqnise? 

Mr.  Hay  ward  was  right,  after  all.  A  woman's 
a  delusion.  Man  should  keep  his  hands  free  to 
do  the  work  that's  set  before  him.  How  serve 
your  coimtry  or  your  Cause  if  you  know  success 
must  moan  rod  ruin  and  the  breaking  up  of  homo 
to  your  wife  and  children,  or  to  tho  girl  who 
loves  you?  Better  by  far  keep  oiit  of  love  alto- 
gether. But  then — ho  hadn't  kept  out  of  it.  lone 
had  stormed  his  heart;  and  even  while  his  head 
told  him  in  very  clear  terms  he  owed  it  to  her  and 
the  Cause  to  break  all  off  at  once,  his  heart  was 
beating  hard  to  the  recurrent  tune  of  lone,  lono, 
lone,  lone. 

She  was  so  bright,  so  lovable,  so  exactly  what 
he  wanted.  And  Russia  was  so  far  away,  and 
lone  so  near  him. 

Then,  suddenly,  the  thought  came  across  hiiii 
— tho  wicked,  traitorous  thought — Did  he  really 
want  to  kill  the  chief  criminal  at  all?  Were  it 
not  better  done,  as  others  use — to  stop  at  home 
at  his  ease  and  make  love  to  lone?  . 

Appallod  at  the  ghastly  temptation,  he  sat  up 
in  his  bed,  and  cast  it  from  him  bodily.  He  cast 
it  from  him,  in  the  most  literal  and  physical 


n^ 


I'NhKK   SKAl-KI»   ()KI»KR8. 


w 


BoiiHo,  with  liin  two  IuiihIh  Htretchod  out  and  hin 
fjicK  iivcrtcil.  H<«  Piirtt  it  from  him.  hcrrorrttnick, 
with  all  tlio  forco  of  his  Ht^l)ll^JJ  yoMU^;  arms  aiul 
all  tlut  iTitciisity  of  hiw  itilu^ritnil  KuKrtiaii  iiiituro. 
Got  the<>  h»>hiritl  iiii'.  Hataii !  Ho  rojoottxl  it  anrl 
ropiiiliat^'il  it,  as  a  yoim|j;maii,  othorwiso  traiiaid, 
nii^^lit  ri^jcct  ami  rop'.iiliatti  tho  most  doadly  sin. 
Turn  his  i)ack  upoa  tho  (^lusc'/  Provo  troach- 
er  uis  to  his  mirturtMind  admonition  in  tho  Faith'/ 
DiHappnint  all  the  doarcst  hopes  of  thoso  who 
had  horn  kindi-st  ami  ImjsI  t)  him"/  Oh,  Mr. 
Hay  ward!  Mr  Hay  ward!  Perish  iho  th')nKht 
forever.  In  an  agony  of  remorsH  and  shame, 
the  i)nor  lad  fliinf^  it  away  from  him. 

Yet  it  haimtod  him  still,  that  instillation  of 
th»  devil!  From  all  sides  it  hatinted  hiin.  Tho 
turninj^  point  of  yaith  had  eome:  the  critiod 
jijjjo  of  doultt,  of  deliheration,  of  roeonstrnction, 
of  resolution.  Russi:i — the  bnrninti^  wron^ys  of 
that  tortured  country — his  father's  blood  that 
cried  from  the  ground,  like  righteous  AImjI'r,  for 
vengeance* — his  motlu'r's  faoe,  wandering  mad 
through  the  Htre<!tH  of  Wilna — the  crowned  tmd 
terrified  Abstraction  that  sat  aghast  clutching 
hard,  on  its  tottering  throne  —  and,  weighed 
against  them  in  the  balance,  lone,  lone,  lone 
Dracopoli ! 

O,  God,  for  light,  for  help,  for  guidance! 
The  young  heart  within  him  throbbed  fierce 
with  love.  He  rose  and  paced  the  room,  and 
lighted  his  candle  in  his  agony.  A  photograph 
Buiiled  down  on  him,  from  the  mantel-piece  in 
front,  smiled  sunnily  and  innocently.     He  took 


'?:Ai^.^iki-iP^'^0^. 


;s. 


UNUKU   HBi^liKO  UHI>KK8. 


Mt 


m1  out  and  hiH 
liirrorrtfriu'k, 
iiu^^  nrn\H  uiul 
itKrtiim  nature, 
•ojcctod  it  and 
rwiKO  traiiiod, 
•Ht  di'iidly  HJn. 
I'rovo  troucli- 
lintho  Fiiithi' 

of    tllOHO    WllO 

inV  Oil,  Mr. 
h  tin?  th')UKlit 
H  and  slid  till', 
rn. 

iuKtijjfation  of 
;i«d  liiin.  Tho 
i;  tho  eritifal 
oconstruction, 
tig  wrongs  of 
's  blood  that 
)UH  AI>gI's,  for 
uidering  mad 
)  crowiunl  and 
last  clutching 
and,  weighed 
ae,   lono,  Tono 

for  guidance ! 
iirobbed  fierce 
the  room,  and 
A  photograi)h 
lantel-piece  in 
tly.     He  took 


it  up  and  kissed  it  with  hot,  fovoriHh  lips.  It 
waw  Mr.  Ilayward'H  portrait  of  lorn-  iu  Iut  Moor- 
ish coBlunus  Mr.  Hay  ward's— of  lone!  There 
»too<l  nH  in  one  magnet  the  two  o]>poHito  polos  of 
his  oHcilhiting  dt^'otion.  lono — Mr.  Hay  ward; 
Mr.  Hay  ward  — i  one. 

(),  kuric  liraBHofY,  iiuric  UrawsofT,  you  said 
truly  that  day  on  the  Morocco  hills  "Love  is  a 
great  snare."  And  wisely,  too,  you  said,  "Keep 
your  head  clear  if  you  can,  and  let  the  Cause 
have  the  heart  of  you." 

Hut  now,  lone  Dracopoli  had  Owen  C'azalet'a 
I'.cart;  and  the  Cause— why  the  Cause,  as  Owou 
would  have  phrased  it  himstdt,  though  it  still 
had  his  head,  was  just  nowhere  in  tho  run- 
ning. 

For  it  was  no  longer  Russia,  that  bleeding, 
distracted  country,  that  Owen  balanced  in  tho 
scale  against  lone's  love.  It  was  Mr.  Hay  ward's 
aspirations.  A  Cause,  after  all,  is  a  very  ab- 
stract entity,  especially  when  you're  only  just 
turned  one-and-twenty.  But  a  porson  is  a  differ- 
ent thing;  and  Owen  loved  Mr.  Hay  ward.  No 
son  ever  loved  and  revered  his  father  as  Owen 
loved  and  revered  that  earnest,  austere,  single- 
hearted  Nihilist.  He  admired  him  with  all  his 
soul.  He  couldn't  boar  even  to  harbor  a  thought 
that  might  displease  him. 

For  Mr.  Hayward's  sake,  ho  must  go  on,  and 
persevere.  He  must  .  .  .  give  up — oh  God,  he 
must  give  up — 

But  no — not  even  in  word — he  couldnH  give 
up  lone. 


1    \ir^^ 


224 


INDEK   SKALKP    ORDERS. 


And  80  on  the  Yii<ik  betwoeii  love  and  duty,  as 
he  underBti3od  those  two,  Owen  Cazalot  passed  a 
night  of  unearthly  struggle.  Every  throb  ol'  his 
pulse,  every  tick  of  the  clock,  seemed  to  oacillalo 
in  unieon  with  those  conflicting  (claims.  lone— 
Ihe  Cause— his  own  heart— Mr.  Hay  ward. 

One  or  other  must  go.  What  po  )r  stuff  for 
a  martyr!  He  felt  his  own  great  linil)s  in  con- 
temptuous self-judgment.  To  think  he  could 
be  so  weak,  who  was  bred  ff)r  a  Nihilist. 


I«.'^ 


).  f 


I 


'*  - 1-;  :i  <•  ''■  w.  ;: . 


(  and  duty,  as 
zalot  passpd  a 
y  throb  ol'  his 
ed  to  oHcilhdo 
lims.  lone- 
ly ward, 
po  )r  stuff  for 
limbs  in  con- 
ink  he  could 
hilist. 


UNDER  HEALED   ORDERS. 


■,t<lK1l!^  tjB^prMWyilpI 


2^6 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

PALTERING      WITH      SIN. 

Next  morning  early,  Owen  tubbed  and 
dressed,  bathed  his  eyes  many  times  to  look 
as  fresh  as  possible,  and  came  down  to  ask  for 
breakfast  half  an  hour  before  the  usual  time. 
He  was  going  to  run  up  to  town,  he  said.  He'd 
like  to  catch  the  8 :  50. 

Aunt  Julia  glanced  hard  at  him,  all  old-niaid- 
ibh  suspicion.  She  was  accustomed  to  these  sud- 
den shocks,  to  be  sure ;  and  the  worst  of  it  was, 
though  she  might  doubt  the  reason,  she  could 
never  interfere  lest  it  might  peradventure  prove 
to  be  one  of  that  dreadful  man's  sealed  orders. 

"To  see  Mr.  Hayward?"  she  asked,  hesitating. 

"No !"  Owen  answered,  with  a  fervent  prompti- 
tude which  at  once  reassured  her  mind  on  that 
score  at  least.  "Ao^  to  see  Mr.  Hayward."' 
After  which  he  shut  his  mouth  close.  It  was 
an  odious  way  the  boy  had.  He'd  picked  it 
up.  Aunt  Julia  thought,  from  that  dreadful  man 
himself.  They  were  always  so  close,  both  of 
them,  about  their  plans  and  their  projects. 

"Where  to,  then?"  Aunt  Julia  ventured  to 
inquire  once  more,  after  a  long  silence. 

And  Owen  answered; 


'^  m 


m 


226 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


"To  Sacha's." 

"Oh!"  A.uut  Julia  replied.  It  was  tho  Oh 
argiimoiitati  v^e  and  sub-interrogatoiy,  not  the  Oh 
purely  ansentative.  It  meant:  "What  to  do,  or 
whom  t.)  Hee?"     But  Owen  took  no  notice  of  it. 

So,  after  a  discreet  interval,  Aunt  Julia  tried 
again. 

"It's  odd  5'ou  should  go  up  to-day, "  she  ob- 
jected, "when  you  saw  Sacha  yesterday." 

"Things  have  occarred  since  yesterday,"  Owen 
responded,  dryly. 

Tliis  was  too  much  for  ^iii  >  lia.  She  opened 
l»er  eyes  wide  at  that  oracular  utterance. 

"How  could  they?"  she  exclaimed,  in  sur- 
prise. "Nobody's  come  or  gone.  Why,  even 
the  post's  not  in  yet  ihis  morning." 

"Things  may  occur  in  tho  night,"  Owen  an- 
swered, somewhat  gloomily — for  how  could  he 
so  much  fts  speak  of  such  high  matters  to  Aunt 
Julia?  "The  vision  of  my  head  on  my  bed,  per- 
hai>s.  ...  I  want  to  talk  certain  points  over, 
anyhow,  with  Sacha." 

"It  isn't  Sacha  you  want  to  see,  Owen,  I'm 
afraid,"  Aunt  Julia  burst  out,  severely,  shaking 
one  lifted  forefinger.  "It's  that  otb-  ■  queer  girl. 
The  one  that  rides  astride  like  a  ;  '  n?id  fre- 
quents strange  harems." 

"But  I  saw  lone,  too,  yesterday,''  ^'v  ,u  an- 
swered, smiling  grimly,  for  he  loved  to  mystify 
her.  "I  wonder,  if  it  comes  t'>  that,  you  don't 
say  Blackbird." 

Aunt  Julia  drew  back,  almost  shocketl. 

"Well,   I  should  hope  you'd  have  the  good 


1 
) 


m 


i-^  ^ftSfci:^;'- 


:^^J£:^ii':  '• 


8. 


t  wiis  tho  Oh 
ry,  not  the  Oh 
fVhiit  to  do,  or 

0  notice  of  it. 
nt  Juliii  tried 

day,"  slic  ob- 
erday. ' ' 
erday,"  Owen 

.  8he  opened 
rauce. 

imed,   in  siir- 
"Why,   even 

t,"  Owen  an- 
how  could  he 
attt^rs  to  Aunt 
n  my  bed,  per- 

1  points  over, 

ee,  Owen,  I'm 

erely,  shaking 

;br!T,neer  girl. 

I,,  .r    tVid  fre- 

f,''  ■  'N  u  an- 
ved  to  mystify 
iiat,  you  don't 

ihocketl. 

lave  the  good 


1 
) 


UNDER  SEALED   ORDERS. 


i»T1i>B«p  iiin  w  iiuimiM  I 


227 


taste  to  say  nothing  to  her,''  she  observed,  with 
dignity.  "Not  only  are  her  views  extremely 
unsound,  but  there's  insanity  in  the  family— of 
that  I'm  certain." 

"Insanity  in  the  family!"  Owen  echoed, 
"Why,   who  told  you  that.   Aunt  Julia?" 

Tho  prop  of  orthodoxy  sat  up  very  stiff  as  she 
answered,  with  some  warmth : 

"I  saw  it  for  myself.  The  girl's  mad;  I'm 
sure  of  it." 

"How  do  you  mean?"  Owen  asked  again. 

"Why,  you  remember  one  day  last  year  Sacha 
asked  her  down  here  for  lunch?— Oh,  no,  of 
course,  you  were  away  with  Mr.  Hayward. — 
Well,  we  went  out  in  the  afternoon,  and  up  on 
the  knoll  till  evening.  As  we  were  sitting  by 
the  summer-house,  and  I  was  talking  to  her  of 
her  state,  tliere  was  a  very  pretty  sunset;  and  I 
saw,  to  my  surprise,  the  girl  was  crying.  'What's 
the  matter,  mj-  dear?  Is  your  heart  touched?' 
I  asked  her.  And  she  answered:  'Oh,  no.  Miss 
Cazalet;  I'm  only  crying  because  the  sunset's 
so  beautiful  I'  Well,  she  must  be  mad,  you  know, 
before  she'd  talk  like  that.  And  nobody  has  a 
right  to  fall  in  love  with  a  girl  who  has  insatuty 
in  the  family." 

"People  can't  help  falling  in  love  sometimes," 
Owen  mused,  smiling  again  that  grim  smile. 
And  Aunt  Julia  stared  hard  at  him.  "Not  that 
I'm -going  to  fall  in  love  with  poor  little  Black- 
bird," he  went  on,  quickly,  seeing  Aunt  Julia's 
brow  darken.  "There's  jiot  enough  of  her,  poor 
thing,  for  one  to  fall  in  love  with.     You  may 


.'0 


'■i';*J; 


»^ 


'"'m': 


■.•>r,  -^ 


228 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDEHS. 


make  yourself  porfertly  easy  on  that  score, 
should  never  even  think  of  her." 

And  he  went  on  eating  Ids  porridge  in  gloomy 
silence. 

The  8:50  train  took  him  straight  up  to  Vic- 
toria, and  ten  nunutes'  walk  landed  him  at  Ihe 
flat  off  Mctoria  Street.  lone  opened  the  door 
for  him — she  wjis  the  recognized  housemaid. 
His  heart  came  up  into  his  mouth  at  sight  of 
her;  hut  he  had  made  up  his  mind  heforehand 
not  to  lean  forward  and  kiss  her,  and  he  almost 
kept  to  it.  The  Hesh.  however,  is  weak.  lone 
smiled  at  him  so  sweetly,  and  held  her  hand  out 
BO  frankly  that,  as  he  took  it,  the  blood  leaped 
to  his  face  at  the  touch,  and  his  heart  beat  wildly. 
Before  he  knew  it,  the  man  within  him  had  done 
what  he  had  sworn  to  avoid.  His  lips  had 
touched  hers — and  he  drew  back  'all  at  once, 
abashed,  ashamed  and  penitent. 

"Where's  Sachay"  he  asked,  holding  his 
breath.     "I — I  came  up  to  see  her." 

"Ah — family  affection!"  lone  answered,  with 
laughing  eyes,  yet  flushed  red  with  pleasure. 
She  took  the  kiss  as  her  due,  after  yesterday, 
of  course;  but  she  was  well  pleased,  none  the 
less  (as  what  woman  wouldn't  be?)  that  Owen 
couldn't  rest  one  day  without  coming  to  see  her. 
"Sit  down  in  the  drawing-room  here,  Owen,  and 
I'll  run  and  fetch  her." 

Owen  followed  where  she  led.  In  the  draw- 
ing-room Blackbird  lounged  lazy,  as  usual,  in 
the  long  wicker  chair,  but  still  paler  and  whiter 
than  her  wont ;  while  her  eyes  looked  very  red, 


idgo  ill  gloomy 


ight  up  to  Vic- 
(led  him  at  Iho 
[lened  the  door 
;ed  housemdid. 
uth  at  sight  of 
ind  beforehand 
and  lie  almost 
is  weak.  lone 
d  her  hand  out 
le  blood  leaped 
art  beat  wildly. 
11  him  had  done 
His  lips  had 
ik  'all  at  once, 

1,    holding    his 
her." 

answered,  with 
with  pleasure, 
ifter  yesterday, 
eased,  none  the 
be?)  that  Owen 
ning  to  see  her. 
lere,  Owen,  and 

In  the  draw- 
zy,  as  usual,  in 
laler  and  whiter 
ooked  very  red, 


.-r^'r-  ■^Wk*-/"'-':)^  n~f:"7  .'f*i^'V-'j:^i'!.i 


UNDER   SE.\T,ED   OKDERS. 


I J  <0iif, .  11  III  m>m'> 


^isfff 


imr 


j^ 


as  if  from  crying  or  sleeplessness.  She  rose  as 
Owen  enteretl,  gave  a  distant  little  bow,  and  left 
the  room  precipitately.  But  the  l)ook  she'd  been 
reading  lay  open  on  the  chair.  Owen  took  it  up 
and  glanced  at  it  in  a  vacant  sort  of  way,  wliile 
lone  was  gone.  He  didn't  observe  it  much,  or 
pay  any  great  attention  to  it.  But  the  book  was 
"Maud,"  and  an  orchid  and  a  laurel  leaf  were 
l^ressed  at  tlve  point  where  Blackbird  had  l)e0n 
reading.  The  verse  against  which  the  orchid 
rested  its  petals  was  tliis: 

"  Oil  may  tin;  solid  jri'ound 
Not  fail  beneath  iny  feet 
Before  my  life  has  found 
What  some  have  found  so  sweet." 

Owen  know  the  lines  well,  and  remembered 
the  something  they  spoke  of  was  love.  But  ho 
never  troubled  to  in<iuiro  whj'  Blackbird  had 
l)oen  rending  them.  A  most  pessimistic  poem, 
only  fit  to  give  poor  Blackbird  gloomier  views 
than  ever.  But  young  life  is  self-centered.  The 
verses  brought  back  to  Owen — just  himself  and 
lone. 

The  orchid,  he  knew,  must  be  one  of  Henley 
Stokes's.  Anil  as  for  the  laurel-leaves,  why, 
Blackbird  was  always  messing  about,  Sacha 
said,  with  laurel-leaves  in  the  laboratory.  She 
wanted  to  extract  poetic  inspiration  from  them, 
perhaps,  for  her  melancholy  music.  At  any 
rate,  she  was  always  distilling,  distilling,  dis- 
tilling away  at  them.  It  was  Love  and  Death. 
But  Owen  didn't  know  it. 


-1 


'   t 


■i  -J- 
■i  • 


230 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


As  he  thought  such  things  vaguely,  Sacha 
camo  in  to  him  from  the  studio,  brush  and 
palette  in  hand. 

"You've  disturbed  mo  from  my  model,  you 
bad  boy,"  she  said,  kissing  him  affectionately. 
"But  never  mind.  I  can  see  you've  got  some- 
thing to  talk  to  me  about.  Come  into  my  sanc- 
tum, and  I'll  go  on  working  while  I  listen  to 
you." 

"But  the  model?"  Owen  objected.  "It's  very 
private.     She'd  listen." 

"We  can  talk  in  Russian,"  Sacha  answered, 
quietly.  "And  that'll  be  very  appropriate,  too; 
for  the  picluro  I'm  working  at  is  that  sketch 
I  spoke  to  you  of  —  a  sketch  suggested  by  one 
of  Kennan's  stoi'ios  —  'The  Lost  Girl  in  Si- 
beria.' " 

"No!"  Owen  cried,  in  surprise.  "How  curi- 
ous! How  strange!  Why,  Sacha,  that's  the 
very  sort  of  thing  I  wanted  to  talk  over  with 
you!" 

"Not  strange,"  Sacha  answered,  in  her  calm 
voica.  "Not  at  all  strange,  Owen — in  me,  espe- 
cially. The  Russian  persists  very  strong  in  us 
both.  And  I  was  old  enough  to  understand 
things,  you  know,  when  poor,  dear  mamma — '^ 
a  sigh  finished  the  sentence. 

"The  Russian  persists  very  strong  in  us  both!" 
Owen  followed  her  into  the  studio.  Yes,  yea; 
Mr.  Hayward  had  made  it  a  religion  to  him  that 
the  Russian  should  persist  and  the  Nihilist,  too. 
But  was  it  really  so  strong?  Or  was  it  wearing 
out  gradually? 


guely,  Sacha 
),    brush   and 

y-  model,  you 
iffectionatoly. 
ve  got  Bome- 
into  my  sauc- 
ie  I  listen  to 

I.     "It's  very 

ha  answered, 
n-opriatQ,  too; 
^8  that  sketch 
jested  by  one 
Girl   in  Si- 

"How  curi- 
la,  that's  the 
ilk  over  with 

,  in  her  calm 
— in  me,  espe- 
'  strong  in  us 
;o  understand 
V  mamma — " 

J  in  us  both!" 
o.  Yes,  yea; 
>n  to  him  that 
>  Nihilist,  too. 
-^as  it  wearing 


"^ 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


»8I 


In  temperament,  ay — he  was  Russian  to  the 
core,  though  with  a  very  strong  dash  of  English 
practicality  and  solidity  as  well;  yet  all  Russian 
in  his  idealism,  his  devotion,  his  enthusiasm. 
But  !is  to  sentiment — well,  more  doubtful;  his 
English  training  had  made  him  in  many  things 
what  he  really  was,  and  Mr.  Hayward  alone  had 
encouraged  the  undeveloped  Russian  tendencies. 
And  now,  since  he  knew  lone,  he  felt  more  En- 
glish than  ever.  He  would  have  liked  to  settle 
down  with  Tone  to  a  quiet  English  life— if  it 
were  not  for  the  fear  of  disappointing  Mr,  Hay- 
ward. 

But  to  disappoint  Mr.  Hayward  would  be  no 
light  matter.  It  would  be  to  blight  the  hopes  of 
a  life,  to  destroy  at  one  blow  a  whole  vast  fabric 
of  plans  and  schemes  and  visions. 

He  sat  down  in  the  studio  chair.  Sacha  ex- 
plained to  her  model  briefly  that  the  gentleman 
spoke  a  foreign  language,  and  that  she  would 
work  while  she  talked  to  him.  Owen  leaned 
forward  and  began.  Sacha,  immovable  as  usual 
to  the  outer  eye,  stood  up  before  her  canvas,  half 
facing  him,  half  looking  toward  themwlel.  The 
girl,  scantily  clad,  cowered  and  crouched  to  keep 
warm  in  the  imaginary  snow.  Sacha  painted 
on,  as  if  absorbed,  while  Owen  spoke  to  her  in 
Russian. 

"You  know  what  happened  yesterday?"  he 
began. 

Sacha  nodded,  and  put  in  a  stroke  at  the  child's 
golden  hair. 

"I  could   guess  it,"   she  answered,    shortly. 


il 


i 


mmemmmmimmi^ 


^  I. 


233 


UNDER   SEALED   OREER8. 


"And,  indeed,  lone  half  told  me.  That  is  to 
say,  when  I  teasod  her  about  it,  she  more  than 
half  admitted  it." 

Then  Owen  explained  the  whole  episode,  in 
timid,  bashful  words,  down  to  the  very  last  touch 
about  blowing  up  the  Czar;  and  that,  as  in  honor 
■  bound,  he  nsfraineil  from  tolling  her.  But  Sacha 
could  guess  it  all  the  same,  though  she  went  on 
painting  sis  if  for  dear  life.  She  knew  more  than 
she  said.     Not  nnich  escaped  Sacdia. 

When  he'd  finished,  she  looked  up. 

"WellV"  she  murmured,  eahnly. 

"I've  had  a  sleepless  night,"  Owen  answered, 
stretching  out  his  big  arms  and  legs  in  an  ex- 
pressive fashion. 

"Thinking  of  lone?"  Bacha  put  in — though 
she  knew  it  wasn't  that. 

"No.     Thinking  of  Mr.  Hay  ward." 

For  the  first  time  the  brush  faltered  in  Sacha's 
steady  hand,  and  her  breath  came  and  went. 

"He  wouldn't  like  it,  you  thinkV"  she  said, 
quickly.  "It  would  interfere  .  .  .  with  his 
plans  for  your  future?" 

"Oh,  Sacha,  you  know  it  would." 

Sacha  fiddled  away  at  the  golden  hair  still 
more  vigorously  than  ever. 

"I've  never  been  told  so,"  she  answered,  after 
a  short,  silent  interval. 

"But  you  guess  a  great  deal,  I'm  sure." 

"Yes — p<?rhaps  incorrectl}'." 

Owen  felt  this  was  painful. 

"Well,  anyhow,"  he  said,  floundering,  "you 
can  understand  this  much — if  I  married  lone, 


8. 

.  That  is  to 
)he  more  than 

lo  episode,  ia 
ory  Ifist  touch 
it,  as  in  honor 
•.  But  Sacha 
1  Hhe  went  on 
ew  more  than 
I. 
ip. 

i^en  answered, 
legs  in  an  ex- 
it in — though 

■d." 

[■ed  in  Sacha's 
and  went. 
kV"  she  said, 
.  .  with    his 


den  hair  still 


nswored,  after 


a  sure. 


ttdering,  "you 
married  lone, 


UNDER   SKALKU   ORDERS. 


233 


i 


or  even  got  engaged  to  her,,  it  .  .  .  well,  it 
would  Imniiier  m(>  very  much  in  the  work  ho 
intends  me.  for." 

"For  the  diplomatic  service,  in  short,"  Saclui 
l)ut  in,  dijiloniatically. 

( )won  eyed  her  with  a  start.  No  word  of  th(> 
real  truth  ever  passed  between  those  two;  yet 
oven  without  speaking  tliey  understood  one 
another. 

"Yes,"  lie  answered,  very  slow.  "In  .  .  . 
the  diplomatic  service." 

"On  the  ground  that  if  .  .  .  anything  .  .  . 
ever  hapi)ened  to  yon—"  Sacha  suggested,  her 
hand  now  trembling  so  much  that  she  hardly 
even  pretended  to  paint  at  her  j)icture. 

"Precisely.  The  diplomatic  service,  we  know, 
is  very  exacting.  One  takes  one's  life  in  one's 
hand.  And  if  anything  .  .  .  ever  happened  to 
me,  what  would  one  say  to  lone?" 

Sacha's  breath  came  and  went.  But  she  still 
pretended  to  paint. 

"Owen,"  she  said,  slowly,  touching  each  hair 
with  a  dry  brush  and  looking  mechanically  at 
the  child,  "I've  often  thought  of  all  that.  And 
ever  since  I've  seen  };ow  m.iich  lone  and  you  were 
taken  with  one  another — why,  I've  thought  of 
nothing  else.  It's  given  me,  toD,  a  sleepless 
night.     It  would  bo  terrible,  terrible." 

"Then  j'ou  guess  a//?""  Owen  asked. 

Sacha  bowed  her  wise  head. 

"Yes,  all,  I  think  Everything.  And  it  has 
troubled  me  much-   jven  for  your  sake,  Owen." 

"How  do  you  mean?"  he  asked  once  more. 


■t: 


f, 


If' 


234 


UNDER   SEALED    ORDERS. 


She  looked  arrofw  jvt  him  tenderly, 

•'It's  hard  to  give  up  one's  brother,"  she  said, 
faltering,  "even  for  a  great  and  a  holy  and  a 
righteous  cause,  Owen." 

"1  suppoHo  HO,"  Owen  answerwl.  "Though 
till  now  I  novor  thought  of  it.  And  even  now 
it's  never  of  myself  I  think,  of  course.  I'm  too 
much  of  a  Russian  for  tluit,  I  hope.  It's  of  lone 
on  the  one  hand — and  on  the  other,  of  Mr. 
Hay  ward." 

"It  would  kill  him,"  Sacha  said,  clinching 
her  liaud  as  she  spoke. 

"  If  I  refused  to  shoo — to  go  into  the  diplomatic 
servicoV"  Owen ''Oi-iected  himself  (piickly.  "But 
I'd  never  dream  of  that,  Sacha.  It  would  bo 
wicked,  unnatural." 

"I'm  not  so  sure  as  to  its  wickedness,"  Sacha 
replied,  very  white. 

"Why,  Sacha,  you  know  I  owe  him  every- 
thing!" 

Sacha  touched  a  hair  or  two  with  real  paint. 

"If  I  were  you,"  she  said,  with  decision,  "I'd 
talk  it  all  over — with  the  person  most  concerned. " 

"Who?     Mr.  Hay  ward!" 

"Mr.  Hay  ward!  No,  no,  my  dear  boy !  lone, 
lone." 

Owen  drew  back,  all  alarmed. 

"But  .  .  .  I'd  have  to  tell  her  everything," 
he  said. 

"She  knows  everything  already." 

"How  can  you  tell?" 

"I  feel  sure  of  it.  And  she  said  so  to  you 
yesterday.     I  could  see  it  in  her  face.     Talk  it 


':i'J&:i 


riy. 

ther, ' '  sho  said, 
1  a  holy  and  a 

rwl.  "Tliough 
And  oven  now 
Mirso,  I'm  too 
je.  It'soflono 
other,    of    Mr. 

said,  clinching 

I  the  diplomatic 
'(luickly.  "But 
.     It  would  bo 


x^4 


INDKR   HEALKD   OKI'RKH. 


^35 


ovor  with  licr  tirst,  and  then  j?o  and  liavo  it  out 
with  y\v.  liuywanl  afttTWiird."' 

Owen  h('HiUitt!(l.  In  the  night  ho  had  said  to 
himst'lf  H  tliousniid  times  ho  must  never,  never, 
never  woe  lone  again.  And  now,  at  the  first 
shot,   he  was  abandoning  tiie  citadel. 

"Where  is  she?"  he  asked,  ralteritig.  Alas 
for  tile  stuff  a  Nihilist  should  be  made  of  I 

"In  tlie  kitchen,  no  d  )ubt, "  Saclui  answered. 
"fJoout  Ihero  iind  call  her." 

And  Ovven,  all  on  fire,  feeling  a  conwionsnoss 
of  wild  guilt,  yet  a  burning  delight  that  he  might 
speak  to  lone,  went  out  and  called  her. 


ednosfl,"  Sacha 

we  him  every- 

th  real  paint. 
1  decision,  "I'd 
ost concerned." 

3ar  boy !     lone, 


r  everything," 


said  so  to  you 
face.     Talk  it 


mmm 


mmmm 


986 


UMUBR  SEALED  ORDEB8. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 


AN    AWFUL   SUaOEHTION. 


loNE,  in  hor  kitobea  cowtume,  wiiH  leaning  ovei 
the  fire  preparing  the  soup  for  lunch,  lis  Owen 
entered.  Hho  looked  up  at  him  by  the  doorway 
with  those  merry  laughing  oyos  of  hers.  "Do 
you  know,"  she  said,  pointing  her  remark  with 
an  impatient  wave  of  lier  iron  spoon,  "this  pic- 
nicking sort  of  life'n  'I  very  well  for  the  East,  or 
anywhere  else  yo'  ose  to  try  it  out  of  En- 

gland, but  now  the  ..^.elty's  begun  to  wear  off 
a  bit,  I'm  g(>tting  to  believe  it  doesn't  go  down 
in  London.  Even  with  Our  Boys  to  helj)  us,  I 
really  feel  before  long— it's  a  confession  of  fail- 
ure, I  know,  but — wo  must  engage  a  kitchen 
maid." 

"You  think  so?"  Owen  answered,  without 
paying  much  heed  to  her  words.  "That  seems 
rather  like  rounding  upon  one's  principles, 
doesn't  it?  Putting  your  hand  to  the  plow 
and  then  looking   back  again." 

lone  tasted  the  soup  from  her  big  spoon  with 
a  very  ci'itical  air  and  pouted  her  lips  prettily. 
"Well,  there's  a  deal  of  backsliding  about  us 
all,  I  fancy,"  she  said,  with  easy  insouciance, 


*  ,    -  *i'  - 


08. 


)N. 

iH  leaning  ovei 
Linch,  (18  Owen 
ly  the  doorway 
of  hore.  "Do 
tr  remark  with 
oou,  "this  pic- 
for  the  East,  or 
it  out  of  En- 
:un  to  wear  off 
)eHn't  go  down 
'8  to  helj)  us,  I 
fession  of  fail- 
ago  a  kitchen 

rered,    without 

"That  seems 

o's    principles, 

to    the    plow 

big  spoon  with 
>r  lips  prettily, 
iding  about  us 
jr  insouciance, 


UNDKU    l^r,  VI,KI)    (»IM>KH«. 


i'M 


pulling  lit'r  kitt'hun  apr  m  ntraight — and  how 
diiiijty  sht' lof)k»!d  in  it!  "Von  cim't  livo  iijt  to 
anything  worth  culling  priiu-iplcH  ia  thi;  world 
nH  it  Htaiids.  The  world'H  too  strong  for  you. 
liidividiiulism's  all  very  well  in  its  Wiiy,  of 
courrto;  hut  society  won't  H'vallow  it.  It  inn't 
orgnni/A'd  that  vvi.>,  }'»'d  v/o  nuint  give  in  u>  the 
orgiiiiization." 

"You  moan  it  HBriouHlyV"  Owen  asked,  now 
much  iiitorosted  by  the  cuvious  way  hor  obsoi-va- 
tionH  ciinie  pat  with  liin  own  thoughts.  "You 
begin  to  believe  in  backrtliding?" 

lone  took  down  a  dredging  box  from  the 
dr(;Hser  hard  by,  and  pronoodod  to  flour  the  lf)in 
of  lamb  on  the  table  beside  her.  "Well,  partly 
I  do,  perhaps,"  she  said.  "And  partly  I'm  still 
of  the  same  old  opinion.  You  see  the  point's 
this;  you  can't  dissever  yourself  altf)gether  from 
the  social  environment,  as  Blackbird  calls  it; 
you've  ^ot,  whether  you  like  it  or  not,  to  live 
your  life  in  our  own  century.  It's  didl,  but  it's 
inevitable.  Now,  wiien  we  first  came  here, 
Sacha  and  I'd  got  tired  of  the  provincialism  of 
living  always  in  the  nineteenth  century  and  we 
tried  all  by  ourselves  to  inaugurate  the  twen- 
tieth, or  the  twenty-first,  or  something.  But 
somehow,  it  doesn't  seem  quite  to  answer.  The 
rest  of  the  world  still  sticks  to  its  own  age  most 
provokingly  in  spite  of  us.  So  there  comes  the 
difficulty.  Of  course,  if  everybody  else  did  ex- 
actly as  wo  do,  there'd  be  nothing  odd  in  my 
running  to  oj)en  the  door  with  my  sleeves  tucked 
up  and  my  fingers  all  floury;  or  in  Blackbird's 


.>n^-'  *!*'-  «''J»  >"'        k. 


...maimmtmgtimmiiiM 


238 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


^' 


Pi- 


being  discovered  with  a  dustpau  in  hor  hand, 
down  on  her  knees  on  the  floor  sweeping  the 
dmwing-room  carpet.  But  the  bother  of  it  all  is, 
us  things  stand  at  present,  we've  got  to  run  both 
conotTus  side  by  side,  as  it  were — we've  got  to 
be  servants  at  home,  and  ladies  in  society." 

"It'»a  tax,  no  doubt,"  Owon  answered,  put- 
ting off  the  evil  hour.  "You'd  like  to  be  free 
this  morning.     Can't  I  help  you  at  all,  lone?" 

lone  looked  up  at  him  with  a  merry  twinkle  in 
her  eye.  "Not  in  that  nice  black  cutaway  coat," 
she  replied,  holding  out  her  floury  hands  toward 
him,  and  pretending  to  make  clutches  at  his  im- 
peccable sleeves,  "unless  you  want  the  evidences 
of  your  guilt  to  be  patent  to  every  observer. 
Tliey'll  say,  if  you  do,  you've  been  flirting  with 
the  scullery-maid."  And  she  made  just  a  tiny 
(lab  of  flour  on  his  cuff  l)y  Avay  of  solemn  warn- 
ing. "You  see,  there  it  is  again,"  she  went  on, 
bustling  about  the  kitchen  as  she  spoke — with 
Owen's  admiring  glance  following  her  round  at 
every  turn  as  an  iron  filing  follows  a  powerful 
magnet.  "That's  the  crux  of  the  situation. 
You  can't  help  in  a  kitchen,  and  yet  wear  the 
ordinary  black  clothes  of  London  respectability. 
Even  Our  Boys,  whoso  frock  coats  are  the  mirror 
of  fashion  of  an  afternoon  in  th  Park,  put  on 
long  liollaud  smocks  in  the  early  morning  when 
they  come  to  crack  the  coals  and  light  the  kitchen 
fire  for  us." 

"I  suppose  you're  right,"  Owen  assented,  sigh- 
ing. "It's  hard  to  have  to  live  by  two  standards 
at  onoe.     Hard  to  move  in  one  world,  and  be- 


,v 


^ftfiflT  imi  IT 


MrimJiit.  .'nfin'i'iiaa'I.Vi 


SRS. 

lU  in  hor  hand, 
r  sweeping  the 
)ther  of  it  all  is, 
got  to  run  both 
3 — we've  got  to 
n  society." 
answered,  put- 
like to  be  free 
at  all,  lone?" 
leriy  twinkle  in 
cutaway  coat, " 
y  hands  toward 
tches  at  his  im- 
it  the  evidences 
?very  observer. 
.m  flirting  with 
lade  just  a  tiny 
f  solemn  warn- 
, "  she  went  on, 
tie  spoke — with 
ig  her  round  at 
iws  a  powerful 
the  situation, 
d  yet  wear  the 
respectability, 
i  are  the  mirror 
a  Park,  put  on 
morning  when 
ight  the  kitchen 

I  assented,  sigh- 

y  two  standards 

world,  and  be- 


".',*   -:  !'SR.-'!''>'*'^"'*'  ■'■ "  '-"*''^'!  '■'*^'*^"  "'»""'*^; 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


239 


long  by  nature  and  sentiment  fmd  opinion  to 
another." 

"That's  just  what  you're  trying  to  do,"  lone 
cried  abruptly,  pouncing  upon  him  with  ji 
saucepan. 

Owen  ));uised  and  reflected.  "I  suppose  it 
is,"  he  said  jKUsivoly. 

lone  went  oi.  washing  out  the  enameled  inside 
with  vigorous  dabs  and  scourings.  "Why,  of 
course  it  is,"  she  continuetl  with  much  spirit. 
"You  eveu  more  than  most  of  us.  Almost 
everybody  worth  si)eaking  of  nowadays  lives 
in  one  age  and  feels  with  another — some  of  us 
in  front  of  cur  own,  and  some  of  us  behind  it. 
But  yon  trj^  to  do  more  than  that.  You  want  to 
diivo  four  systems  abreast.  For  you'd  like  to 
live  in  two  ages  and  belong  to  two  countries — 
England  and  Russia— our  century  and  the  next 
— that's  the  long  and  the  short  of  it." 

"I  never  told  you  so,"  Owen  cried,  turning 
pale.  He  loved  to  take  refuge  in  that  saving 
clause.  At  least  it  could  never  be  said  he'd  be- 
trayed Mr.  Hayward. 

"If  women  only  found  out  what  they're  told, 
my  dear  boy,  they  wouldn't  know  much,"  lone 
responded  cheerfully,  giving  another  twirl  to  the 
cloth  inside  the  shining  saucepan.  "But  seri- 
ously, you  can't  go  on  living  this  double  lifn  for 
always.  It's  not  human  nature.  I  lay  awake  a 
good  bit  last  night,  Owcmi" — her  voice  grew 
graver  and  softer.  "And  I  thought  a  great  deal 
about  it." 

Owen's  heart  leaped  up  once  more  at  those 


.1 


V'? 


-.i'^??- 


■»?,■■ 


>H^i^m^ 


.f-^' 


--«^v 


240 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


words.  In  spite  of  the  iiour  and  the  saucepan, 
he  seized  lone's  hand  hard.  "You  hij'  awake  in 
the  night  and  thought  ahout  me,  darling?"  he 
cried,  overjoyed.  "You  really  lay  awake  and 
thought  ab:)ut  me?" 

lone  nodded  and  smiled.  "Why,  of  course,  I 
thought  about  you,  you  goose,"  she  answered. 
"Wliat  do  you  think  girls  are  made  of?  Do 
you  suppose  .  .  .  after  what  happened  yester- 
day ...  I  was  likely  to  fall  asleep  the  very 
first  moment  I  laid  my  head  on  my  pillow?" 

She  looked  at  him  so  bewitchingly,  with  those 
soft  round  cheeks  so  shamefacedly  red  in  modest 
surprise  at  their  own  unwonted  boldness,  that 
Owen  couldn't  help  leaning  forward  and— just 
kissing  her  as  she  stood  there.  It  was  a  bad  be- 
ginning for  a  philasophical  debate  on  the  ethics 
of  nihilism.  lone  took  the  kiss  sedately,  as 
though  it  were  but  her  due;  yet  she  motioned 
him  away  with  her  hand  all  the  same,  as  who 
should  observe,  "That  wsis  all  very  nice  in  its 
way,  no  doubt ;  lout  no  more  of  the  same  sort  at 
present,  thank  yau."  Then  she  turned  to  him 
suddenly,  in  a  tumult  of  emotions,  and  nestled 
her  tlnffy  head  on  his  shoulder  for  very  shame. 
*'()h,  Owen,  darling,"  she  cried  with  a  burst, 
"think  about  you?  Think  ;. bout  you?  Why,  I 
lay  aAvake  all  night  long,  and  thought  of  nothing 
else  but  you— you,  j-ou,  j-ou— till  it  was  light 
again  this  morning." 

Owen  ran  his  fingc-s  tenderly  through  that 
crisp  loose  hair  of  hers.  Russia,  the  Cause? 
what  were  //<e//  to  him  now?     Oh,  Nature,  Nat- 


RS. 

[  the  saucepan, 
n  laj"  awake  in 
,  darling?"  he 
ay  awake  and 

iiy,  of  course,  I 
she  answered, 
made  of?     Do 
ippened  yester- 
isleep  the  very 
ly  pillow?" 
gly,  with  those 
Y  red  in  modest 
boldness,  that 
ivard  and — just 
t  was  a  bad  be- 
te on  the  ethics 
as   sedately,   as 
}t  she  motioned 
le  same,  as  who 
v'ery  nice  in  its 
the  same  sort  at 
»  turned  to  him 
ons,  and  nestled 
for  very  shame. 
I  with  a  burst, 
J  you?     Why,  I 
(Ughtof  nothing 
ill  it  was  light 

y  through  that 
?ia,  the  Cause? 
h,  Nature,  Nat- 


i 

UNDER   SEALED   OliDEKS.                     241 

ure,  why  did  you  over  make  women?  These 
temptations  shouldn't  bo  i)ut  upon  our  frail  mas- 
culine hearfs.  Ho  hadn't  even  the  coiirage  t.o 
answer  outright  that  he,  too,  for  his  part,  had 
lain  awako  all  night  and  thought  of  her — and 
Mr,  Haywiird.  Ho  could  only  press  her  sweet 
face  with  one  caressing  hand  into  the  hollow  of 
his  shoulder,  while  with  the  other  ho  ran  his  lin- 
gers through  thoso  silky  chestnut  locks  of  hers. 
He  was  enslaved  by  the  tangles  of  Necera's  hair. 
And  he  murmured  under  his  breath,  "lone,  I 
love  j'ou." 

For  a  minute  or  two  they  stood  there — Owen 
tall  and  strong  and  erect,  lono  nestling  against 
him  in  her  womanly  self-abandonrntnt.  Then, 
suddenly,  she  came  to  herself  again,  and  moved 
away  from  him,  all  remorse  and  penitence  for 
too  open  an  avowal.  She  ran  across  the  kitchen 
floor,  blushing  hot  in  the  face  as  she  went.  "Oh, 
Owen,"  she  cried,  "what'll  you  think  of  me? 
But  I  couldn't  help  it — I  love  you  so —  And  I 
know  what  it  was  you  lay  awalje  and  thought 
about." 

"What,  darling?"  Owen  asked,  following  her 
up  instinctively,  and  seizing  her  hand  once  more, 
as  she  turned  her  tingling  face  away  from 
him. 

"Why,  you  thought,"  lone  answered,  pretend- 
ing to  be  deeply  interested  in  the  saucepan  once 
more— though  her  quivering  hands  belied  their 
ostensible  task  —  "you  thought  —  you'd  done 
wrong  in  ever  speaking,  at  all  to  me." 

Owen  gazed  at  her,  and  winced.     "It's  dese- 


.M'^^0t 


242 


7KDKK   SEALED   ORDERS. 


W 


cratiou  to  say  so,  lono, "  he  cried,  taken  aback 
at  her  insight.     "But — I  did.     I  admit  it  " 

"I  know  yo\i  did,"  lone  went  on.  "I  saw  it 
in  your  eyes  when  I  ojKjned  the  door  to  you  jus 
you  came  this  morning.  .  .  .  You  thought  that 
horrid  Russian  man  woahl  be  angry  if  he  knew, 
and  that  j'ou  ought  to  have  followed  his  wishes 
and  never  fallen  in  love  with  me." 

Owen  drew  a  deep  sigh.  "Not  angry,  Icne," 
he  answered.  "If  that  were  all,  I  think  I  could 
stand  it  more  ejisily.  But  grieved,  crushed, 
head  broken — oh,  I  can't  tell  you  how  utterly 
and  inexpressibly  disappointed." 

"Only  because  you  were  in  love  with  me, 
Owen  !"  lone  said,  a  bit  reproachfidly. 

"Ah,  you  can't  understand,"  Owen  burst  out, 
half  despairingly.  "And  I  can't  even  explain 
to  you.  I've  no  right.  It'd  be  wicked  of  me — 
most  wicked  and  ungrateful.  You  can't  think 
how  much  it  means  to  Mr.  Hayward,  my  dar- 
ling; you  can't  think  how  much  it  means  to  him 
— all  his  life  work,  almost.  For  twenty  years 
he's  lived  for  little  else  but  the  plan  which  .  .  . 
well,  which  my  loving  you  would  upset  alto- 
gether. And  I  daren't  upset  it.  I  can't  upset 
it —  lone,  you  won't  understand  it;  but  I  owe 
him  so  much!  He's  brought  me  up,  and  sent 
me  to  school,  and  supplied  all  mj^  wauts,  auti 
been  more  than  a  father  to  me.  Hjw  can  I 
turn  upon  him  now,  and  say— I  love  a  woman, 
and  for  her  sake  I  can't  fulfill  my  engagements 
with  you?" 

"And  you  mean  to  fulfill  them?"  lone  asked, 


R8. 

I,  taken  aback 
idmit  it  " 
on.  "I  saw  it 
door  to  you  jus 
u  thought  that 
fry  if  he  knew, 
tved  his  wishes 

angry,  Icne," 
I  think  I  could 
Bved,  crushed, 
u   how  utterly 

love  with  me, 
fxdly. 

►wen  burst  out, 
t  even  explain 
i-icked  of  me — 
ou  can't  think 
ward,  my  dar- 
t  means  to  him 

twenty  years 
an  which  .  .  . 
lid  upset  alto- 

I  can't  upset 
I  it;  but  I  owe 
e  up,  and  sent 
ny  wants,  and 
>.  Hjw  can  I 
love  a  woman, 
y  engagements 

?"  lone  asked, 


DNnKR   SKALEI)   ORDERS. 


243 


growing  suddenly  grave  and  pale,  for  she  real- 
ized now  to  the  fidl  what  those  terrible  words 
meant.  "You  mean  to — to  blow  up  the  Czar, 
and  be  shot  or  hanged  or  tortured  to  deatii  for 
it?" 

Owen  paused  and  reflected.  "I  mean  to  fulfill 
whatever  engagements  I've  made  with  Mr.  Hay- 
ward,"  he  answered  slowly  and  ruefully.  "And 
therefore — I've  dono  wrong  in  permitting  myself 
ever  to  love  j'ou." 

lone  let  herself  drop  on  a  wooden  kitchen  chair, 
and  laid  her  head  in  her  arms  on  the  rough  deal 
table.  For  a  moment,  she  had  given  way,  and 
was  crying  silently.  Owen  let  her  go  on,  just 
soothing  her  head  with  his  hand  for  srime  min- 
utes without  speaking.  At  the  end  of  that  time, 
she  looked  up,  and  began  again  quite  calmly. 
The  womanish  fit  was  over.  Her  tears  had 
quieted  her,  "You're  going  quite  wrong,"  she 
said  with  a  firmness  and  common  sense  beyond 
her  years.  "You're  letting  a  false  sentiment  of 
consistency  lead  you  utterly  astray.  You're  sac- 
rificing your  life— and  mine— to  a  mistaken  idea 
of  honor  and  gratitude." 

"If  only  you  knew  Mr.  Ha-ward,  lone," 
Owen  put  in  with  a  deprecating  gesture. 

"If  only  I  knew  Mr.  Hay  ward— I  should  say 
exactly  what  I  say  this  minute,"  lone  answered, 
fervently.  "Look  here  at  it,  Owen!  This  is 
just  how  things  stand.  You're  an  Englishman 
born  as  much  as  anj-body.  You  had  a  Russian 
father — well,  and  I  had  ti  Greek  one.  It  pleases 
us  both  to  pretend  we're  Russian  and  Greek,  and 


VI 


iV,!di**."«^/ 


If 


244 


UNDE  t  SEALED   ORDERS. 


IB 


'f 


80,  no  doubt,  iu  iuhorited  tendencies  and  disposi- 
tions we  are;  but  for  all  practical  purposes,  we're 
pure  English  for  all  t'i.t.  You're  just  a  t«ll, 
well-made,  handsome,  athletic  young  English- 
man. You  care  a  great  deal  more,  in  your  heart 
of  hearts,  nbout  a  two-mile  race  than  about  the 
wrongs  of  Russia — though  even  to  yourself,  of 
course,  you  wouldn't  like  to  acknowledge  it, 
That  drer  .^^\  Nihilist  man— I  admit  he's  very 
clever,  very  dignified,  very  grave,  very  earnest, 
and  he  knows  your  character  thoroughly — but 
that  dreadful  Nihilist  man  has  got  hold  of  you, 
and  calked  you  over  to  his  ideas,  and  stuffed 
your  inflammable  Russian  head — foj-  your  head 
at  least  is  Russian — chock  full  of  his  bombs  and 
his  dynamite  and  his  enthusiasms,  till  not  even 
your  wholesome  English  legs  and  arms  will  carry 
you  away  out  of  reach  of  him  intellectually. 
But  you  know  very  well  it's  all  a  factitious  feel- 
ing with  you.  .  .  .  Mr.  Hayward's  at  the  bottom 
of  it.  If  Mr.  Hayward  were  to  die  to-morrow, 
you'd  nevar  want  to  do  anything  at  all  for 
Russia." 

"I  hope  I  would!"  Owen  cried  devoutly.  For 
was  it  not  his  religion? 

"But  so  much,  do  you  think?"  lone  asked 
with  a  quick  thrust,  following  up  her  advantage. 

Owen  hesitated.  "Well  .  .  .  not  quite  so 
much,  perhaps,"  he  faltered  out  after  a  mo- 
ment's reflection. 

"No,  of  course  not!"  lone  continued  in  a  tone 
of  feminine  triumph.  She  was  woman  all  over, 
which  is  another  way  of  saying  her  transitions 


ujii. 


as. 

es  and  dispoai- 
)urpo8e9,  we're 
re  just  a  tall, 
3ung  English- 
,  in  your  heart 
than  about  the 
to  yourself,  of 
knowledge  it, 
Imit  he's  very 
,  very  earnest, 
oroughly — but 
)t  hold  of  you, 
s,  and  stuped 
-foj'  your  head 
his  bombs  and 
3,  till  not  even 
irms  will  carry 
intellectually, 
factitious  feel- 
's at  the  bottom 
die  to-morrow, 
ing  at   all   for 

devoutly.     For 

"  lone  asked 
her  advantage, 
not  quite  so 
t   after  a  mo- 

inued  in  a  tone 

^oman  all  over, 

her  transitions 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


245 


of  emotion  were  intensely  rapid.  "Would  you 
blow  up  the  Czar,  for  example,  all  on  your  own 
account?  Would  you  lay  a  plot  to  explode  him? 
I,  for  one,  don't  for  a  moment  believe  it." 

"Probal)ly  not,"  Owen  admitted,  after  another 
short  pause  of  internal  struggle.  Somehow,  loiw 
compelled  him  to  tell  ihe  truth,  and  to  search  out 
his  inmost  and  most  persoL^al  feelings,  in  inat- 
tord  which  he  had  long  given  over  himself  to  Mr. 
Hay  ward's  supreme  direction. 

"No,  I  knew  you  v/ouldn'ti"  lone  echoed, 
looking  across  at  him  and  drying  her  tears. 
"It's  only  your  father  confessor  *UaL  drives  you 
to  these  extremities.  You've  giver,  him  your 
conscience  to  keep,  and  you  ne^er  so  luuch  as 
take  it  out  to  have  a  look  at  h  j'ourself.  But 
you're  a  man,  Owen,  now,  and  your  manhood 
compels  you  to  reconstruct  your  fait'n.  TLa 
question  is,  do  you  or  do  yju  not  believe  in  this 
movement  so  much  that  you're  prepared  to  sacri- 
fice 3'ourown  life  and  sti'ength — and  me  into  the 
bargain — to  Mr.  Hayward's  f^chemes  and  Mr. 
Hay  ward's  principles?" 

She  spoke  it  out  plainly  Owen  could  not 
choose  but  listen.  It  was  treason,  he  knew — 
high  treason  to  the  Cuuse,  a  jd  yet  after  all  very 
rational  treason.  Thare  vvas  plain  common  sense 
in  every  word  lone  said.  Why  accept,  offband, 
Mr.  ;  layward's  system  of  things  as  an  infalli- 
ble guide  to  moral  conduct  in  a  world  where 
so  many  conflicting  opinions  bear  sway  alter- 
natively? Was  Mr.  Hayward  the  Pope?  Was 
Bond  Street  a  new  Vatican? 


'■■'M 


4 


246 


UNDKR   REALED  OKDER8. 


But  Mr.  Hay  ward's  money!  And  Mr.  Hay- 
ward's  kindiu^s!  Must  ho  be  ungrateful  and 
bjiBC,  and  betray  his  tyroat  benofactor,  all  for  the 
Bake  of  that  prime  stumbling-block  of  our  kind, 
a  woman? 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 


THE   CHISIS   COMES. 


When  you're  in  doubt  whether  you  ought,  as 
a  matter  of  conscience,  to  marry  a  particular 
woman  ornot,  I've  always  observed  it's  a  dan- 
gerous practice— from  the  point  of  view  of  impar- 
tial decision—to  take  the  doubt  to  that  woman 
herself  for  solution.  For  either  alio  cordially 
agrees  with  you,  and,  after  manj-  tears,  indorses 
your  scruples;  in  which  case,  of  course,  chivalry, 
pity,  and  a  certain  masculine  in(;U0  compel  you 
to  fling  j'our  arms  round  her  in  a  passion  of  re- 
morse and  swear  in  spite  of  everything  she  must 
and  shall  be  yours— and  hang  conscience.  Or 
else  she  uiffers  from  you,  and  dispels  your  flimsy 
doubts;  in  which  case,  naturally,  there's  nothing 
on  earth  left  for  a  man  to  do  but  agree  with  her 
and  marry  her.  So  that,  let  thing?  turn  as  they 
will,  your  woman  wins  either  way. 

Now  this  was  precisely  the  dilemma  for  which 


R8. 


itid  Mr.  Hay- 
ingratefiil  and 
•tor,  all  for  the 
k  of  our  kind, 


you  ought,  as 
y  a   particular 
■v-ed  it's  a  dan- 
view  of  impar- 
to  that  woman 
auo  cordially 
tears,  indorses 
mrse,  chivalry, 
;U0  compel  you 
A  passion  of  re- 
'thing  she  must 
;onseience.     Or 
lels  your  flimsy 
there's  nothing 
agree  with  her 
,g3  turn  as  they 

)mma  for  which 


UNDER   SEALRD  ORDERS. 


247 


poor  guileless  Owen  hnd  let  himself  in.  All 
that  autunu)  through,  of  course,  he  continued  to 
argue  with  himself  that  'twould  bo  a  grievous 
wrong  in  him  to  disappoint  Mr.  Hayward.  Yet 
the  ni,)ro  ho  argued  it,  the  more  possihlo  snch 
backsliding  Koemed  to  grow  with  each  day.  i)o- 
])ond  upon  it,  there's  nothing  for  weakening  the 
hold  of  virtue  on  the  mind  like  the  constant  (lett;r- 
mination  that  in  spite  of  everything  you  will  be 
virtuous.  The  oftouer  you  declare  to  yourself 
you  will  never,  never  do  so-and-so,  the  more 
natural  and  thinkable  does  the  so-and-so  become 
to  you.  And  thus  it  was  with  Owen  Cazalet. 
By  Christmas  time,  indeed,  he  had  all  but  made 
up  his  mind  that  sooner  or  later  he  might  have  to 
toll  Mr.  Hayward  his  faith  in  the  Cause  was 
growing  distinctly  feebler. 

As  for  lone,  she  aided  him  greatly,  whenever 
he  saw  her,  in  this  terrible  resolve — for  to  him,  it 
■iras  terrible.  She  never  missed  an  opportunity 
of  pointing  out  to  him  over  and  ovor  again  that 
his  zeal  for  Russia  was  after  all  entirely  artificial 
— a  delicate  exotic,  reared  and  nursed  with  diffi- 
culty on  rough  English  soil,  and  ready  to  fi>de  at 
the  first  chilly  frost  of  our  damp  western  winter. 
"You'd  never  have  arrived  at  those  ideas,  at  aU, 
all  of  yourself,  you  know,"  she  said  to  him  more 
than  once.  "They're  nothing  but  mere  reflec- 
tions of  Mr.  Hay  ward's  enthusiasm.  It's  natural 
enough  in  him,  no  douot;  he's  a  Russian — to  the 
core,  to  the  manner  born  and  he's  seen  how  the 
thing  works  in  actual  ■<■  ractice.  Perhaps  he's 
been  proscribed,  hunted  dorvn,  ruined,  exiled  to 


248 


UXI>EK   8KAI,Kn   ()Rr>KK8. 


Siberia.  Ho  may  Imvtt  run  nvvay  frr)m  the 
miiioH,  or  esrivpoil  from  priHon.  I  don't  owe  him 
litiy  j<fru(l^e  for  wuntini^  to  blow  up  tho  Czar — F 
daro  Hay  the  C'/.tw  dpHorvcH  it — if  ho  thinkn  that's 
the  best  way  of  cloariuj^  tho  boanl  for  a  fn'sh  deal 
and  ospiH'ially  if,  lus  you  way,  ho  wants  to  How 
him  up  out  of  puro  brothorly  lovo  and  aflfoction 
for  tho  down-tro(hlofi  |)eai!iantry.  I  sympathi/o 
with  all  that  very  much,  in  a  non-compromising 
sort  of  way — and  at  a  safo  diHtanro.  But  thai 
ho  shoidd  want  to  drag  yon  into  it — you,  our 
own  dear  old  Owen — that's  (juite  another  matter. 
You're  as  English  as  I  am,  j'ou  kni)W,  and  if  it 
comes  tn  tliat  a  groat  deal  Englishor;  and  you're 
a  thousand  timns  mon!  intorcwlod  in  the  cham- 
pion sculls  than  in  the  wrongs  nf  the  Slav  and  tho 
abominations  of  tho  Third  Section.  You'll  never 
allow  it,  of  course;  but  it's  a  fact  for  all  that. 
Tho  enthusiasm's  pumped  up;  the  athletics  are 
genuine." 

Much  dropping  of  water  will  wear  away  a 
stone.  And  lone  was  really  iti  her  heart  of 
hearts  far  too  deeply  in  love  with  Owen,  and  far 
too  terrified  for  his  future,  not  to  push  her  ad- 
vantage hard  every  time  she  met  hini.  Some- 
times she  was  .sad  too,  ami  let  him  seo  the  reason 
why.  How  could  any  girl  help  being  sad,  she 
asked,  no  matter  how  .i(>y<Mis  or  vivacious  her 
nature,  when  tlie  being  she  loved  best  on  earth 
was  going  straight  his  own  iu^adlong  way  to  a 
mtu'dorer's  grave  or  to  the  mines  of  the  UralV 
( )w(^n  strongly  demurred  to  that  ugly  word 
"murderer,"  he  said  it  was  a  question- begging 

• 


ts. 

ray  fri)n\  tbe 
don't  owe  him 
ip  tho  Czar — I 
e  thitikH  that'rt 
or  a  fresh  deal 
vvatitH  tu  blow 
and  affection 
I  synipathi/H 
-compromising' 
ICO.     But  tlial 

0  it— you,  our 
vQother  matter, 
enow,  and  if  it 
ler;  and  you're 

1  in  the  cham- 
;he  Slav  and  th« 
,  You'll  never 
ict  for  all  that. 

10  athletics  are 

wear  away  n 

11  her  heart  of 
I  Owen,  and  far 
3  puHh  her  ad- 
3t  him.  Some- 
n  see  the  reason 

being  Had,  she 
r  vivacious  her 
od  best  on  earth 
dlong  way  to  a 
les  of  tho  Ural? 
tluit  ugly  word 
[uestion-begging 


UNDER  HKALKI)   OUDKRS 


249 


epithet,  inHpfdicablo  to  the  minister  of  a  political 
Hcntenco  aj^'iiini-t  a  notorious  criminal.  Hut  lono, 
Jiiivhig  once  discovered  by  accident  how  hard  it 
iiit  him,  stuck  to  her  phrase  wt^manfiiUy  to  the 
bitter  end,  and  made  it  do'giKxl  duty  a.s  a  mental 
lever  in  Iiit  (h!lil)ei-iito  operati  )ns  against  Owen's 
tottering  constuence.  For  conscience  it  was, 
though  not  of  tho  Ci)nmion  stamp.  There  be 
creeds  and  creeds;  and  eaeh  creed  l)egets  its  ap- 
l)ropriiite     i  >ral  sentiments. 

/.v  it  nuudor  to  shoot  a  Czar'r  Or  should  wo 
ratber  deem  it  a  noble  act  of  self-sacrifice  for  hu- 
manity's snke?  God  knows;  I  don't;  and,  with 
tho  fear  of  the  Lord  Chief  Justice  for  ever  before 
my  eyes,  I  refuse  to  discuss  tho  question — at 
least  in  public.  These  matters,  I  hold,  are  best 
debated  in  caiiieru;  1  may  even  venture  to  say 
/a  camcni  obscura.  Poor  Herr  Most  got  twelve 
motjths  for  deciding  the  abstract  point  at  issnd 
iu  tho  second  of  tho  two  senses  above  considered. 
Twelve  months  in  jail,  my  medical  authority  as- 
sures mo,  would  be  bad  for  one's  health.  And 
it  would  deprive  one  of  tho  society  of  one's  friends 
and  family. 

But  to  Owen,  loss  well  brought  up,  the  strug- 
gle was  a  painful  ono.  He  had  boon  taught  to 
regard  Mr.  Hayward's  opinion  as  the  ultimate 
court  of  appeal  in  all  questions  of  ethics.  No 
Jo.suit  was  ever  more  successful  in  the  training 
of  his  uoophyt'3S  than  Ruric  BrassoflF  had  been 
with  Owen  Tiizalet's  conscience.  Whether  it  be 
right  or  wrong  to  kill  one  man  for  the  good  of 
the  people,  Owen  at  least  was  (juite  as  firmly 


<i 


4 


'm-^ 


^ 


>' 


l^^i.' 


aso 


UKPKIl   HKAT.KP   OKDRRS. 


'  convincod  by  his  whole  onrly  tniinin}?  it  wiiw  Iuh 
boundon  duty  to  shoot  ii  vznr,  w\u'\wxor  founil, 
jw  hi'  wiiH  firmly  rouviiioed  it  was  wholly  iind 
uttorly  indi'fcnsibU'  tc^  Hlioot  a  fjroUHo  or  a  phoas- 
nnt.  Ho  had  bcoti  instructed  by  thoHt>  whom  ho 
moHt  rovored  and  roHpoctod  that  to  tiiko  lifo  in 
Hport.  bo  it  man's  or  In-ast'sor  bird'H,  be  it  Zidu's 
or  Turcoman's,  is  a  deadly  sin;  but  that  to  take 
life  for  th«  protection  of  lite  and  liln^rty,  be  it  a 
scorpion's  or  a  wolf's,  be  it  a  czar's  or  a  tiger's, 
is  a  plain  and  indubitable  moral  duty.  No  won- 
der, then,  he  clung  hard  to  this  original  teaching, 
which  sup|iorted  for  his  soul  the  whole  superim- 
posed I'ubi-ic  of  ingrained  morality. 

By  Christmas,  however,  as  I  said  befure,  his 
mood  had  begun  to  weaken.  Ho  wasn't  (juite  as 
firm  in  the  Nihilist  faith  as  formerly.  Still  be- 
lieving without  doubt  in  the  abstract  principle 
tliat  czars  should  bt>  -ihot  down,  on  every  possible 
occasion,  like  noxious  reptiles,  he  was  a  trifle  less 
clear  in  his  own  mind  than  of  old  that  he  was 
the  particular  person  specially  called  tipon  by  na- 
ture and  humanity  to  do  it.  A  rattlesnake  should 
be  killed,  no  doul>t,  by  whoso  comes  across  him 
—say  in  South  Carolina;  but  are  you  therefore 
bound  to  take  ship  to  Charleston  on  purpose  to 
find  him?  Must  you  go  out  of  your  way,  so  to 
speak,  to  look  for  your  rattlesnakes? 

Yes;  if  you've  been  paid  for  it,  brought  up  for 
'^".       it,  trained  for  it.     Yes;  if  the  path  of  duty  lies 
clear  that  way.     Yes;  if  you've  engaged  your- 
self by  solemn  contract  to  do  it. 

"But  you  were  a  minor  at  the  time!"  objects 


/.ftj^*'*'« 


VNDKR   HEALED   OKDiCUS. 


261 


iiijjf  it  wiiK  luK 
•tK'Vcr  fouml, 
rt  wholly  unii 
iHo  or  H  phoiiH- 
liow^  whom  ho 
)  tiiko  lifi>  in 
H,  ho  it  Zulu'rt 
it  thut  to  tako 
l)orty,  he  it  a 
'h  or  H  tigor'a, 
ity.  No  uon- 
;inal  teat  hiiig, 
rhole  Huporiin- 

\u\  hefure,  hin 
irasn't  quite  an 
irly.  Still  ho- 
tract  principlo 
overy  possihlo 
rns  a  trifle  less 
Id  that  he  was 
ad  upon  hy  nu- 
lesnake  should 
lea  across  him 
you  therefore 
on  purpose  to 
oiir  way,  so  to 
as? 

hrought  up  for 
th  of  duty  lies 
engaged  j'our- 

time!"  objects 


lone;  "yi-n  didn't  know  y.nu- own  mind.  Now 
you'vo  cnnio  lo  num's  OHtuto,  you  think  it 
over  at  your  loisiuo,  and  ropudiaU)  tho  obliga- 
tion." 

All,  yoM;  biif  how  return — not  the  m'>n(\v  alone, 
but  tlu^JiiiuH,  the  furu,  tIiol<)\ing  iiitcn-Hl';'  That 
was  what  bothered  Ovvon  huav.  Th(»  blui-k  in- 
gratitudes tho  cnudty;  above  all,  how  break  his 
change  of  mind  to  ?dr.  irayward? 

From  that  ordeal,  ho  shrank  horribly.  Yet 
sooner  or  later,  he  fidt  in  his  s«>ul,  it  must  come. 
Ho  began  to  seo  that  clearly  now.  Ho  had  passed 
all  the  Foreign  Office  examinations  >v'ith  credit, 
and  had  further  been  excused  his  two  years  of  rosi- 
donco  ftbrond,  as  his  knowledge  of  coUoipiial 
French  was  pronounced  to  be  simply  perfect ;  and 
ho  was  only  waiting  at  present  to  receive  his  ap- 
pointment. But  how  live  in  this  hateful  state? 
It  shamed  him  to  take  another  pennj'  of  Mr.  Hay- 
ward's  money. 

Early  in  January,  however,  an  event  occurred 
which  compelled  him  to  hasten  his  decision  one 
way  or  the  other. 

It  was  a  foggy  da^'  in  town.  Black  mist  veiled 
all  London.  The  lamjjs  burned  yellow.  Car- 
riages crawled  slowly  through  melting  slush  in 
Bond  Street.  The  frost  had  paralyzed  traiiic 
along  tho  main  thoroughfares.  And  the  practice 
of  photography  was  suspended  for  the  moment 
by  thick  gloom  that  might  be  felt  in  Mortimer 
&  Co.'s  studio. 

As  they  lounged  and  bored  themselves,  a  lady 
came  to  the  door,  who  asked  to  see  Mr.  Hay  ward. 


.,Al 


""\%r« 


L-i^^;-'-*: 


SWI 


■J"!iH?!"". 


:.  t 


252 


UNDER  SEAIXD   ORDERS. 


)  "  t 


I  > 


She  was  a  lady  of  a  cRrtF.iu  age,  and  of  a  certain 
girth,  too,  but  still  hanusome  and  buxom  with 
ripe  matronly  beauty.  Tne  young  woman  with 
tlio  toozley  hair  in  the  shop  downstairs  iiassed  har 
up  languidly  to  the  office.  Tlie  yor.ng  man  in 
the  office  twirling  his  callow  mudtache,  remem- 
bered to  have  seen  her  befor.-.  and  to  have  sent 
home  her  photographs  to  a  private  room  at  the 
Metropole.  It  was  difficult,  indeed,  for  any  one 
to  forget  those  great  magnetic  eyes.  Madame 
Mireff,  lie  recollected ;  the  famous  unaccredited 
Russian  agent.  So  he  showed  her  up  to  the  Sanc- 
tum with  much  awed  respect;  was  she  not  known 
to  lie  some  Great  One,  acquainted  with  peers  nor 
unfamiliar  with  royalties? 

Mr.  Hayward  tot  at  the  desk,  writing  letters 
or  making  notes,  as  Madame  Mireff  entered. 
He  rose  to  receive  her  with  that  stately  civility 
of  his  younger  rrjurt  life  which  twenty  yeaiM  of 
English  shopkeeping  had  never  yet  got  rid  of. 
Slie  took  his  hand  with  warmth.  But  his  very 
manner  as  ho  motioned  her  gracefully  to  the  big 
easy  chair  warned  madame  at  once  of  the  footing 
on  which  they  were  to  stand  in  their  interview 
to-day.  No  more  of  Rusic  Brassoff  or  of  incrim- 
inating disclosures.  She  was  a  lady  of  rank ;  he 
was  plain  Mortimer,  now,  the  Bond  Street  pho- 
tographer. 

"Good  morning,  madame,"  ho  said  in  French, 
leaning  carelessly  forwai'd  to  scan  her  face  close- 
iy.  "How  well  you're  locking.  And  how  gay 
—how  lively.  That's  lucky  for  me.  I  can  see 
by  the  smile  on  your  face,  by  this  air  of  general 


as. 


UNDER  8EALED   ORDERS. 


253 


ill!  of  a  certain 
\  buxom  with 
g  vvonuin  with 
airs  passed  lier 
^-or.iig  man  ia 
itache,  reniem- 
ul  to  have  sent 
ite  room  at  the 
?d,  for  any  one 
yes.  Madame 
s  unaccredited 
up  to  the  Sauc- 
she  not  known 
with  peers  nor 

writing  letters 
Vlireff  entered, 
stately  civility 
;wenty  yeai  •<  of 
yet  got  rid  of. 
But  his  very 
fully  to  the  big 
e  of  the  footing 
their  interview 
)ff  or  of  incrim- 
idy  of  rank;  he 
)nd  Street  pho- 

said  in  French, 

I  her  face  close- 

And  how  gay 

me.     I  can  see 

s  air  of  general 


content,  by  this  happy  expression,  you've  suc- 
ceeded in  your  object,  ' 

Olga  Mireff  looked  radiant  indeed.  "Yes," 
she  answered  with  conscious  pride;  "I've  been 
able  to  do  something  at  last  for  our  CDUimou  coun- 
try-— "  But  she  faltered  as  she  spoke,  for  Mr. 
Hay  ward  frowned.  "I  mean,  that  is  to  say  .  .  . 
for  your  young  friend,"  she  added  hastily,  cor- 
recting herself,  with  th.'it  deep  blush  on  her 
rounded  cheeks  that  so  well  1)ecame  her. 

"Bett,  r  so,"  Mr.  Hay  ward  replied,  in  a  low 
voice.  Better  so,  Madame  Mireff.  You  know 
my  rule :  Minimize  the  adverse  chances.  One 
compromising  interview  is  more  than  enough 
already.     To-day — we  are  official." 

Madame  blushed  f  .nd  looked  down  again.  The 
presence  of  the  great  man  made  that  woman 
nervous,  who  never  quailed  in  society  before  wit 
or  rank  or  irony  or  statesmanship.  She  fumbled 
her  muff  awkwardly.  "I've  mentioned  your 
young  friend's  name  to  Sir  Arthur  Beaumont, 
who  knows  his  family,"  she  said  stammering, 
"and  to  Lord  Caistor,  and  others;  and  I've 
brought  pre.osure  to  bear  upon  him  from  his  own 
side  of  the  House,  and,  what's  better  at  this  junc- 
ture, from  the  Irish  members.  You  know  ce 
cher  O'Flanagan — he's  my  devoted  slave ;  I  put 
the  screw  oii  Fortunately,  too,  young  Mr. 
Oazalet  had  falleri  in  with  one  or  two  of  the 
Patriots,  and  impressed  tlietn  favorably  as  a 
friend  and  champion  <^  oppres.se<l  nationalities 
everj'where ;  and  they  gav-  him  their  influence. 
So  the  thing's  as  g''/>d  as  nettled  now.     Here's 


.:! 


<«MH 


l>i 


264 


UNDER  SEALED  OKDBR8. 


T 


what  Lard  Caistor  writois."  Ami  she  held  out 
in  oi^o  pluiui)  hand  the  Foreign  Secretary's 
letter. 

Mr.  Hay  ward  took  it  and  read  : — 

"Dear  Madame  Mikeff— It  Hurprises  me  to 
learn  you  shi.aiUl  think  Her  Majesty's  aovernmout 
could  he  influenced  by  motiveH  such  as  these  you 
allude  to  in  making  or  withholding  diplomatic 
appointments.      Xothiug   but   cunsideratious  ot 
personal  litness  and  educational  merit  -ver  weigh 
with  us  at  all  in  our  careful  selection  of  publio 
servants.     I  am  aovvy  to  say,  therefore,  I  must 
decline,  even  in  my  private  capacity,  to  hold  any 
communication  with  you  on  s j  official  a  subject.    I 
am  not  even  aware  mytJelf  what  selection  may  bo 
made  for  tliia  vacant  podt—the  matter  lies  mainly 
with  my  Under  Secretary— nor  would  I  allow 
Sir  Arthur  Beaumoiit  to  mention  to  me  your  pro- 
tege's name,  lest  I  should  be  prejudiced  against 
him;  but  you  will  find  the  announcement  of  tbo 
fortunate  candidate  in  the  Gazette  at  an  early 
date.     Regretting  that  I  am  unable  to  serve  yi^u 
in  this  matter,  I  remain,  as  ever,  with  the  pro 
foundest  respect, 

"Yours  very  sinctroly, 

"Caistor." 

Mr.  Hayward  put  the  letter  down  with  a  deep 
sigh  of  relief.     "Then  he's  got  the  honorary  at- 
tacheship  at  Vienna!"  he  said,  almost  gasping 
"Nowhere  else  could  be  better  1     It's  splendid  I 
Splendid!" 


«.ia.-^ 


s. 


T 


she  held  out 
u   Secretary's 


iii'prises  me  to 
'sGovornmout 
h  as  these  you 
ug  diplomatic 
sideratious  ot 
srit  "ver  weigh 
tiou  of  publi(j 
;re£oro,  I  must 
ty,  to  hold  any 
h1  a  subject.    I 
lection  may  bo 
ter  lies  mainly 
ivould  I  allow 
;o  me  your  pio- 
iidiced  agairi.st 
[icement  of  tlie 
tte  at  an  early 
lie  to  serve  you 
,  with  the  pro- 

ly, 

"Caistor." 

wn  with  a  deei> 
le  honorary  at- 
Imost  gasping 
It's  splendid! 


UNDER. SEALED   ORDERS. 


255 


For  those  two  knew  well  how  to  read  and  speak 
the  diplomatic  dialect. 

Tears  stood  in  the  Chief's  eyes.  He  brushed 
them  away  ha.stily.  Tears  stood  in  Madame 
"Mireff's.     She  let  them  roll  down  her  cheek. 

"Have  I  done  well?"  she  faltered  timidly, 
^  nd   Ruric  Brassoff,   seizing   her  hand,   and 
preivoing  it  hard  in  both  his  own,  murmured  in 
ansver,  "You  have   done   well.     You  have  de- 
served much  of  humanity." 

Thorfi  v?as  a  moment's  pause.  Then  madame 
rose  Skll^  stood  irresolute.  Short  shrift  is  the  best 
rule  in  revolutionary  affairs.  She  held  out  one 
trembling  hand.  "That's  all?"  she  said  regret- 
fully, half  i<  aging  to  stop,  half  fearing  to  ask  for 
respite. 

And  Mr.  Hayward,  inexorable,  taking  the 
proffered  hand,  answered  in  his  mechanical  busi- 
ness voice  once  more,  "That's  all.  No  further 
now.  I  shall  write  to  Owen  to-day.  .  .  .  He'll 
need  two  huudi-ed  pounds  at  once,  of  coui"se,  to 
enable  him  to  take  up  so  important  an  appoint- 
ment." 

"You  would  .  .  .  permit  me  to  supply  it?" 
madame  \  ■    ^ured  to  ask  timidly 

The  Chiet  'ok  his  head  and  smiled.  "Keep 
your  money,"  he  answered,  in  a  cold  tone  of  com- 
mand. "I  have  no  neeti  for  it  now.  Funds  are 
plentiful  at  present.  You  oflFer  too  freely,  ma- 
dame. When  I  require  aught  from  any  of  you, 
rest  assured,  I  shall  ask  Ijv  it." 

He  rose  and  motioned  her  out  with  princely 
dignity.     For  a  secood  he  held  the  door  ajar,  and 


'Mf 


^^dff-^^ 


»*  '^  >' ' 


#^  ie.  .■   ^  :a .    ,4ia? 


966 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


spoke  in  English  audibly,  as  he  bowed  dismissal. 
•'I  regret  very  mucli,"  he  said,  "we  should  have 
misuuderstoiKl  your  instructions.  No  more  of 
the  platinotypes  shall  be  exposed  for  sale  till 
we've  altered  the  inscription.  I  apologize  for 
our  mistake.  We'll  withdraw  them  altogether, 
in  fact,  if  you  think  them  in  any  respect  un- 
worthy our  reputation. " 


T 


,'pd  dismissal. 
9  should  have 
No  more  of 
for  sale  till 
apologize  for 
tn  altogether, 
y  respect  un- 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


367 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 


■     OWEN   T)EBATES. 

At  Moor  Hill,  next  morning,  Owen  was  busy 
at  his  favorite  winter  pastime  of  boxing  a  stuffed 
sack  suspended  from  a  beam,  when  the  postman 
entered.  His  room  overlooked  the  garden  gate, 
and  his  imaginary  opponent  dangled  sidewise  to 
the  light  not  far  from  the  window ;  so  he  com- 
manded the  situation,  even  while  busily  engaged 
in  his  punching  and  pummeling.  As  a  man  of 
peace,  indeed,  Owen  disapproved  of  boxing,  ex- 
cept with  gloves  and  muffle ;  but  from  the  point 
of  view  of  pure  exercise,  he  delighted  in  the 
muscular  play  of  it,  and  was  an  expert  in  the 
art,  as  in  so  many  other  branches  nf  athletic 
practice.  He  had  just  dealt  his  swinging  an- 
tagonist a  vigorous  blow  between  the  eyes,  winch 
sent  him  reeling  into  space,  when  he  caught  sight 
from  afar  of  a  certain  square  blue  envelope  in 
the  postman's  hand,  of  a  most  familiar  pattern. 
He  knew  it  at  a  glance.  It  was  the  business 
envelope  of  Mortimer  &  Co.,  photographers,  in 
Bond  Street. 

In  a  tumult  of  expectancy  he  rushed  down  to 
the  door,  in  jersey  and  drawers  as  he  stood,  his 


'dt&^M&-:k 


mm 


fP:: 


t»  - 


2fiS 


UNDEK   SEALED   ORDERS. 


strong  arms  all  sleeveless,  and  his  brawny  neck 
all  bare,  to  Aunt  Julia's  infinite  horror,  on 
grounds  alike  of  health  and  of  mode.sty — "You'll 
catch  your  death  of  cold  one  of  these  fine  winter 
days  going  to  the  door  like  that  in  bitter  frosty 
weather!"  He  took  the  note  from  the  postman's 
hands,  and  tore  it  open  hurriedly.  Yet  so  deeply 
was  respect  for  Mr.  Hayward  ingrained  in  the 
young  man's  nature  that  ho  laid  the  more  en- 
velope down  on  the  table  with  reverent  care,  in- 
stead of  tossing  it  into  the  fire  at  once  as  was  his 
invariable  wont  with  less  sacred  communications. 
As  he  read  it,  however,  his  face  flushed  hot,  and 
his  heart  fluttered  violently.  Oh !  what  on  earth 
should  he  do  now?  A  bolt  from  the  blue  had 
fallen.  He  stood  face  to  face  with  his  grand 
dilemma  at  last.  He  must  cast  his  die  once 
for  all.  He  must  cross — or  refuse  to  cross — 
his  dreaded  Rubicon. 

"My  dear  Owex,"  Mr.  Hayward  wrote,  "I 
have  good  news  for  you  to-day,  after  long,  long 
waiting.  An  influential  friend  of  mine  (one  of 
our  own,  and  most  faithful)  has  just  informed 
me  your  appointment's  as  good  as  made — the  at- 
tacheship  at  Vienna.  It'll  be  gazetted  at  once 
— so  Lord  Caistor  implies— and  probably  by  the 
same  post  with  this  you'll  receive  the  official  an- 
nouncement. Come  up  to  town  direct,  as  soon 
as  ever  it  reaches  you,  and  bring  the  Foreign 
Office  letter  along  in  your  pocket.  I've  placed 
two  hundred  pounds  to  your  credit  at  once  at 
Drummond,  Coutts  &  Barclay's,  and  have  asked 


mm 


IS. 

1  brawny  neck 
te  horrt)r,  on 
osty— "You'll 
380  fiuo  winter 
a  bitter  frosty 
the  postman's 
Yet  so  deeply 
grained  in  the 
I  the  more  eii- 
erent  care,  in- 
nce  as  was  his 
ninunications. 
ishod  hot,  and 
what  on  earth 

the  bhie  had 
ith  his  grand 

his  die  once 
ise  to  cross — 


rard  wrote,  "I 
fter  long,  long 
f  mine  (one  of 
just  informed 
made — the  at- 
izetted  at  once 
robably  by  the 
the  official  an- 
direct,  as  soon 
g  the  Foreign 
;.  I've  placed 
adit  at  once  at 
md  have  asked 


UNDER   8BAl,ED   ORDEB8. 


259 


them  at  the  same  time  to  let  you  have  a  check- 
book. But  I  must  take  you  round  iHieve  when 
you  rtm  up,  to  introduce  you  to  the  firm,  and 
to  let  them  see  your  signature.  For  the  rest, 
attaches,  as  you  know,  get  nothin^  at  all  in  the 
way  of  salary  for  the  first  two  years ;  so  you  must 
look  to  me  for  an  allowance,  which  I  need  hardly 
say  will  be  as  liberal  as  necessary.  I  can  trust 
you  too  well  to  fear  any  needless  extravagance 
on  your  part :  on  the  contrary,  what  I  dread  most 
is  too  conscientious  an  economy.  This  you  must 
try  to  avoid.  Live  like  others  of  your  class; 
dress  well;  spend  freely.  Remember,  in  high 
posts,  much  is  expected  of  you.  But  all  this 
will  keep  till  we  meet.  On  your  account,  I'm 
overjoyed.  Kindest  regards  ti)  Mies  Cazalet. 
"Yonr  affectionate  guardian, 

"Lambekt  Hayward." 

This  letter  drove  Owon  half  frantic  with  re- 
morse. "Good  news  for  you  to-day" — "over- 
joyed on  your  account" — abivo  all,  "in  high 
posts,  much  is  expected  of  you."  The  double 
meaning  in  that  phrase  stung  his  conscience  like 
a  snake.  Mnch  was  expected,  no  doubt;  oh,  how 
little  would  be  accomplished ! 

"May  I  look?"  Aunt  Julia  asked,  seeing  him 
lay  the  note  down,  with  a  face  of  abject  despair. 

And  Owen,  in  his  lonely  wretchedness,  an- 
swered: "Yes,  yon  may  look  at  it."  It  was 
intended  for  the  public  eye,  he  felt  sure — an  offi- 
cial communication — else  why  that  uncalled-for 
"Kindest  regards  to  Miss  Cazalet"? 


4i^fesiS^«ifr'jfe«^«''--^«i>^^'-»'«»^iW^:'*^ 


S60 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


Aunt  Julia  read  it  over  with  tbo  profoundost 
disHpprobatiun. 

"Vioanal"  hIio  cried,  with  »  t'rowu.  "That's 
80  far  off!  So  unhealthy  I  Ami  in  a  Catholic 
State,  too!  And  they  say,  aociety's  Iooho,  and 
the  temptations  terrible.  Not  at  all  the  wort  of 
court  /  should  have  liked  ytni  to  mix  with.  If 
it  had  been  Berlin,  now,  Owen,  espocually  in  the 
dear  good  old  Emperor's  daj-.s — ho  Ava»  such  a 
true  Christian  I"  And  Aunt  Julia  heaved  a 
sigh.  Vienna,  indeed!  Vienna!  That  wicked 
great  tovvn !  She  remembered  Prince  Rudolph. 
"It's  awfully  sudden,"  Owen  gasped  out. 
Wonder  seized  Aunt  Julia.  Though  not  very 
dee)),  she  was  woman  enough  to  read  in  his  pal- 
lid face  the  fact  that  he  was  not  delighted.  That 
discoverj-  emboldened  her  to  say  a  word  or  two 
more.     A  word  in  season,  how  good  it  is! 

"And  that  certainly  isn't  the  way  a  person  of 
mature  j-eai-s  ought  to  write  to  a  young  man," 
she  went  on,  severely.  "Just  look  at  this :  '  Live 
like  others  of  your  class ;  dress  well ;  spend  free- 
ly. '  Is  that  the  sort  of  ddvice  a  middle-aged  man 
should  offer  his  ward  on  his  entrance  into  life? 
'Dress  well;  spend  freely.^  Disgraceful!  Dis- 
gracef  111  I  I'  ve  always  distrusted  Mr.  Hay  ward's 
principles." 

"Mr.  Hay  ward  understands  character,"  Owen 
answered,  bridling  up.  As  usual.  Aunt  Julia 
had  defeated  her  own  end.  Opposition  to  his 
idol  roused  at  once  the  rebellious  Russian  ele- 
ment in  her  nephew's  soul.  And,  besides,  he 
knew  the  compliment  was  well  deserved,  that  too 


;s. 

0  profoimdost 

wu.  "That's 
in  a  CHtholio 
y's  looHO,  tmd 
all  the  Hort  of 
mix  with.  If 
[)e{ually  in  the 
10  Avas  Huch  a 
Ha  Iveavod  a 
That  wicked 
Ince  Rudolph, 
asped  out. 
ough  not  very 
?ad  in  his  pal- 
ighted.     That 

1  word  or  two 
od  it  is ! 

ay  a  person  of 
young  man," 
at  this :  '  Live 
1 ;  spend  free- 
ddle-aged  man 
ance  into  life? 
graceful !  Dis- 
Mr.  Hayward's 

racter,"  Owen 
il,  Aunt  Julia 
position  to  his 
3  Russian  ele- 
nd,  besides,  he 
served,  that  too 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


261 


conscientious  econojny  was  tho  sturahliug- block 
in  his  caw.  "I  shall  go  up  to  town  at  once, 
I  think,  witliout  waiting  to  get  the  official 
Jotter." 

"Mr.  Hay  ward  won't  liko  that,''  Aunt  Julia 
put  in,  coming  now  to  the  aid  of  what  was,  after 
all,  duly  constituted  autliority. 

Owen  was  too  honest  to  take  refuge  in  a  sub- 
terfuge. 

"I  didn't  say  I'd  go  to  Mr.  Hayward,"  he 
answered.  "There  are  more  jwople  than  one  in 
London,  I  believe.     I  said,  to  Loudon." 

' '  Whore  will  you  go,  then ? "  Aunt  Julia  asked, 
marveling. 

And  Owen  answerd,  with  transparent  evasive- 
ness : 

"Why,  to  Sacha'.s,  naturally." 

On  the  way  up,  the  last  struggle  within  him 
went  on  uninterrupted.  They  were  front  to  front 
now ;  love  and  duty  tooth  and  nail .  He  grew  hot 
in  the  face  with  the  brunt  of  the  combat.  Tliere 
was  no  delaying  any  longer.  He  couldn't  accept 
Mr.  Hayward's  two  hundred  pounds ;  he  couldn't 
take  up  the  diplomatic  appointment;  he  couldn't 
go  to  Vienna.  Black  ingratitude  as  it  might  seem, 
he  must  throw  it  all  up.  He  must  tell  Mr.  Hay- 
ward  point-blank  to  his  face  it  was  impossible 
for  him  now  and  henceforth  to  touch  one  penny 
more  of  Nihilist  money. 

Owen  had  doubts  in  his  own  mind,  indeed,  if 
it  came  to  that,  now,  as  to  the  abstract  rightful- 
ness of  political  assassination.  Time  works  won- 
ders.    Love  is  a  great  political  teacher.     As  fer- 


i&Mm 


•iyf 


w 


t> 


ft 


SO-i 


UNDER   SEAliEI)   ORDERS. 


r 


vciitly  UuHsiim  mid  us  fcrvoiitly  rovolutionaiy 
iu  cunviclii/ii  us  »'ver,  ho  whh  yet  lM'Kii>iiiiig  lo 
believe  in  tHluciiting  czarH  out  iu«ti>udof  oiiuteriz- 
ing  tlioni  with  ilyruunito.  It  was  u  (luestion  of 
inetliod  ahine,  to  ha  sure,  imt  of  ultiiiiat«  ohjoct 
— still,  method  is  SDinothing.  N'ot  only  must  tht> 
wiHo  man  see  his  «!nd  cleurly;  ho  muBt  choose  fiis 
means,  too,  with  consumniato  iuhiUmu'l}.  And 
Tone's  arj^nments  had  made  Owon  ilouht,  even 
aj^aiust  Mr.  Hayward's  suitieuiB  authority, 
whether  shootinf^  your  czar  u  tia  the  hest  pos- 
sihlo  uiuans  of  utilizing;  uiin  for  humanity.  How 
much  grrtiidor,  iuiw  much  moit  impressive  it 
would  he,  for  example,  to  convert  him !  That 
was  a  splendid  idea.  What  a  vista's  oixjuoil 
there!  But  Mr.  Hayvs  irdV  His  heart  sank 
again.     Mr.    Ilayvvard  wouldn't  see  it! 

Arrived  at  the  flat  otY  A'ictoria  Street,  ho 
didn't  even  t?o  through  the  formality  of  askinf? 
for  Sacha.  He  flui  ,;•  himself,  full  face,  into 
lono's  ixims  and  cried  out  in  the  bitterness  of 
his  soul : 

"Oh,  lone,  lone,  I've  got  my  appointment!" 

lone  took  his  ki.ss,  and  started  back  in  dismay. 
Her  face  went  very  white.  She  didn't  pretend 
to  congratulate  him. 

"Then  the  crisis  has  come?"  she  said,  trem- 
bling.    "You  must  decide— this  morning?" 

Owen  followed  her  blindly  into  the  drawitig- 
room,  and  handed  her  the  letter  to  read.  She 
took  it  in,  mechanically.  Then  she  let  her  hand 
drop  by  her  side,  with  the  fatal  paper  held  loose 
in  it. 


rovuliitionury 
t  Ix'^iiuiiug  lo 
mi  of  niutonz- 

1  II  (lUL'StilMl    of 

iltiiiiiite  ohjoL't 

uiily  must  the 

lllBt  cLooHo  11  is 

uiUmico.     And 

I'M  ilouI)t,  t'veu 

lie     uutliurity, 

tho  best  pos- 

UHuity.     How 

impressive  it 

irt  liiiii !     That 

virtta's  opouoil 

iH    bofirt    sank 

Heo  it! 

rin  Street,  he 
ility  of  askinfif 
full  face,  into 
0  bitterueH.s  of 

appointment!" 
ack  in  dismay, 
didn't  protend 

she  said,  trem- 
novuing?" 
0  the  drawiiig- 
■  to  read.  She 
bo  let  her  hand 
laper  hekl  loose 


r 


f 


UNDER  SEALED  OKDERH. 


263 


"And  "7m/  will  yon  decide?"  slw  asked,  cold 
at  heart     md  sobldnj^  iiiwardfy, 

"What  »inst  I,  Fmiio?  ' 

Tho  girl  HhrH)k  like  a  leaf  in  tho  wind. 

"It's  for  you  to  Haj%  Owen,"  she  answered. 
'"Don't  let  /««  stand  in  your  way — or  Russia's, 
either.  What  am  I  tluit  yi>u  shouhl  doubt? 
Why  make  me  an  obstacle?  You  may  be  secre- 
tary in  time— envoy — minister— ombaHsador." 

"Or  Russia's,  either!"  Owen  repeated,  mus- 
ing, and  seizing  her  hand,  more  in  doubt  than  in 
love,  just  to  steady  himself  internally.  "Oh, 
darling,  I'd  have  thought  it  ti-eaaon  oven  to  think 
so  once.  But — it's  homble,  it's  wicked,  it's  in- 
human of  me  to  say  it — lone,  for  your  sake,  rather 
than  cause  your  dear  heart  one  moment's  pain — 
I'd — I'd  sacrifioe  Russia." 

"It  isn't  inhuman,"  lone  answered,  flushing 
red  in  a  sudden  revulsion  of  feeling  from  despair 
to  hope.  "It's  human,  human,  human — that's 
just  what  it  is — it's  human!" 

Owen  held  her  hand  tiglit.  It  seemed  to  give 
him  strength. 

"Yes,  Russia,"  he  said,  slowly ;  "I  could  sacri- 
fice that;  but  Mr.  Hay  ward!     Mr.  Hay  ward!" 

"Obey  your  own  heart,"  lone  answered;  but 
she  pressed  his  hand  in  return  with  just  tho  faint- 
est little  pressure.  "If  it  bids  you  do  so — then 
sacrifice  me  by  all  means  to  Mr.  Hayward." 

"lone!" 

He  looked  at  her  reproachfully.  How  could 
she  frame  such  a  sentence?  Surely  she  knew  it 
was  duty — and  oh  1  so  hard  to  follow. 


r-  * 


864 


UNDKR  HRALKl*   OIIDBF'" 


'  \\ 


lono  flunix  linrHt-lf  upon  hin  nhouldor  ntul  burnt 
wildly  'uN)  tciiiH. 

"Darling'."  hIio  cried,  w.bWiuK  low,  "I  don't 
wunt  t;)  iuHuunco  you  ii^Minnt  your  conrtcionco 
and  your  cimvictious;  but.  .  .  .  But  how  can  I 
givo  you  up  to  Bucli  ii  dreadful  futuioV" 

Ovv(>u  folt  it   waM   all   up.      llt'f  nnurt  wound 
round  him  now.     Could  ho  tenr  hini8i>lf  away 
from  thorn  nnd  Bay  in  cold  blood:  "I  will  go  to 
my  di'atli,  whm-o  duty  calls  ninV"     That  was  all 
very  well   for  rouiiuico;    but  in    real,   real   lifo 
Iouo'h  tearful  faco  would  havo  haunted  him  for- 
ever.    Very  vaguely,    too,  he   folt,  as  lono  had 
said,  that  to  yield  was  human.     Ami  what  is 
most  human  iH  most  right;  not   Spartan  virtue, 
but  the  plain  dictator  of  our  conuuon  inhotited 
emotion.     That  in  tho  voice   of  Nature  and  of 
gold  within  us.     ThoHO  whom  wo  love  and  those 
who  love  ua  are  uoaror  and   dearer  to  us  by  far 
than  Russia.     Sunreme  devotion   to  an  abstract 
Cause  is  grand— in  a  fannti*-;  but  you  must  have 
the  fanatic's  temper;  and  fanatician\  roots  ill  in 
so  alien  a  soil  as  tho  six  feet  two  of  a  sound  En- 
glish athlete.     He  clasped  her  in  his  strong  arms. 
Ho  bout  over  her  and  kissed  her.     He  dried  hor 
bright  eyes,  all  the  brighter  for  tlieir  tears. 

"lone,"  ho  cried  in  decisive  accents,  "the  bit- 
terness of  death  is  past.  I've  made  my  mind  up. 
I  don't  know  how  I'm  over  to  face  Mr.  Hay  ward; 
but,  sooner  or  later,  face  lum  I  will.  I'll  toll 
him  it's  impossible." 

"Go  now!"  lone  said,  firmly.  "Strike  while 
the  iron's  hot,  Owen!" 


V-  ■  ■■<*■   •-  ^" 


"■^a'fV',. 


,.SWji|>^-\»!, 


-t^T'li'^'^^'i''^'^  '>'■*»*?'  f 


i}m 


'iyi>*y>( 


INDK.It   HKALKI)   OHDKRS. 


UH 


ildor  and  burf<t 

low,  "I  don't 
'our  eonncioiico 

lUit  how  oim  I 
tuioV" 

n-  nrnm  wound 
r  liiniaolf  iiwiiy 
1:  "I  will  go  to 
'     Tiiat  wart  all 

real,  n-al  lifo 
united  him  for- 
it,  as  lono  had 
And  what  is 
Spartan  virtue, 
anion  inherited 
Nature  and  of 
)  lovo  and  those 
Tor  to  us  by  far 

to  an  abstract 
;  you  must  have 
cisin  roots  ill  in 
»  of  a  sound  En- 
his  strong  arms. 
'.  He  dried  her 
their  tears, 
x-ents,  "the  bit- 
'ide  my  mind  up. 
o  Mr.  Hay  ward; 
[  will.     I'll   toll 

"Strike  while 


Tho  very  thought  unnerved  him. 

"ISiit  what  shiill  I  nay  altoiit  the  m  iiii\v  I've 
had— the  .Mohooling— tho  caroy"  ho  aslcod,  plead- 
ing nnitcly  for  delay.  "He's  doiio  ho  nuicli  for 
me,  ilarling.  lie's  boon  more  tliin  a  father  to 
ni(>.     It's  too  terril)lo  to  disilhHion  him." 

lono  stood  up  and  faeod  the  faltorer  bravely. 

"Vou  oughtn't  t)  let  him  wait  one  mitiuto 
longer,  tluMi,"  she  said  with  eounige.  "Unde- 
ceive him  at  oneo.     It's  riglit.     Ii's  manly." 

"You've  tnuchod  it!"  Owon  answered,  driven 
to  aetion  by  the  last  wonl.  "If  I've  got  to  do 
it,  1  must  do  it  now.  Hifore  tho  api)ointmont'ti 
mado.     I  mustn't  lot  them  gazette  mo." 

lono  drew  back,  in  turn,  half  afraid. 

"But your fiitun>?"  sheoried.  "Your future? 
We  ought  to  think  about  that.  "What  on  earth 
will  you  do  if  you  refuse  this  attatjlieship';'" 

Owen  laughed  a  grim  little  laugh. 

"We  ran't  afford  to  stick  now  at  trifles  like 
thdf,"  ho  said,  bitterly.  "If  I'm  to  give  uj)  this 
post,  T  mu.st  look  out  for  myself.  I'm  cast  high 
and  dry— stranded."  Ho  glanced  down  at  his 
big  limbs.  "But,  anyhow,"  be  added,  with  a 
cheerful  revulsion,  "I  can  [)reak  stones  against 
any  man,  or  sweep  a  crossing." 


i 


«*'{* 


>:.^<i 


UNDEK   SEALED   ORDERS. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 


THE     B  U  1?  B  T.  E     BURSTS. 


i 


On  any  otlier  day,  Owen  would  have  taken  a 
cab  to  Bond  Street.  This  morning  he  walked 
though  with  fiery  haste.  For  every  penny  he 
spent  now  was  Mr.  Haj-ward's—aud  the  Nihi- 
lists'. So  it  had  always  been,  of  course;  but  h. 
felt  it  ten  thousand  times  more  at  present.  The 
dead  weight  of  his  past  debt  hung  round  his  neck 
like  a  millstone.  Not  for  worlds  would  ho  have 
incref>,bed  it,  as  things  stood  that  day,  by  a  two- 
penny omnibus  fare. 

Mr.  Hayward  met  him  at  the  door  of  the  _  .lO- 
tographic  sanctum,  and  grasped  his  hand  warm- 
ly. The  pressure  went  straight  to  Owen's  heart 
like  a  knife.  If  only  he  had  been  cold  to  him? 
But  this  kindliness  v.-as  killing. 

"Well,"  the  elder  man  said,  beaming,  and 
motioning  his  ward  into  a  chair  with  that  prince- 
ly wave  of  hifi.  "They've  been  prompt  about 
the  announcement,  then.  You  got  the  official 
note  by  the  same  post  as  my  letter?" 

Owen's  tongue  misgave  him.  But  he  man- 
aged to  falter  out  with  some  little  difficulty, 
"No,  it  hasn't  come  yet,  Mr,  Hayward.  I  .  .  . 
I  wanted  to  aufcipate  it." 


;s. 


ITS. 

I  have  taken  a 
ng  he  walked 
t^ery  penny  he 
and  the  Nihi- 
course ;  but  h  .> 
;  present.  The 
round  his  neck 
would  ho  have 
day,  by  a  two- 

oor  of  the  _  .lO- 
lis  hand  warm- 
:o  Owen's  heart 
n  cold  to  him  ? 

beaming,  and 
dth  that  princc- 
i  prompt  about 
got  the  official 
r?" 

But  he  mau- 
litlle  difficulty, 
ay  ward.     I  .  .  . 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


267 


The  chief's  face  fell.  "That  was  not  in  my 
orders,  Owen,"  he  said,  with  inHoxible  gravity. 
"What  a  sturabliug- block  it  is,  this  perijetual 
ovcrzoal!  How  often  shall  I  still  have  to  warn 
my  most  trusted  subordinates  that  too  much 
readiness  is  every  bit  as  bad  and  as  dangerous 
as  too  little?' 

"But  that  wasn't  it,  Mr.  TIayvvard,"  Owen 
answered  as  w:ell  as  ho  could.  "I  had  a  re<ison 
for  anticipating  the  official  announcement.  I  do- 
sired  to  prevent  the  gazetting  of  the  api)ointment. 
I  may  as  well  tell  you  all,  first  as  last,  .  .  ."  Ho 
.was  sbaking  like  a  jelly.  "Mr.  Hay  ward.  .  .  . 
Oh,  I  can't .  .  .  yet  I  must.  .  .  .  Tiiis  is  terrible." 
He  blurted  it  out  -with  a  gulp.  "I  don't  mean 
to  g>  at  all  into  the  diplomatic  service." 

The  shock  had  not  yet  como.  Mr.  Hay  ward, 
gazing  blankly  at  him,  failed  to  take  it  all  in. 
He  only  looked  and  looked,  and  shook  his  head 
slowly  as  in  doubt  for  a  minute.  Then  Iic  ejai;- 
ulated  "Afraidy"  in  very  unemotional  accents. 
The  word  roused  Owen  Cazalet's  bitterest  con- 
tempt. "Afraid!"  he  cried,  Inndliug  up,  in  spite 
of  liis  grief  and  remorse.  "Afraid!  Can  you  ■ 
think  it?"  And  he  glanced  down  iuvohmtarily 
at  those  fearless  strong  hands,  "But  I  have 
doubts  in  my  own  mind — as  t6  the  rightfulness 
of  the  undertaking." 

Mr.  Hayward  looked  through  him,  and  beyond 
him,  as  he  answered  as  in  a  dream.  "Doubts — 
as  to  the  desirability  of  exacting  punishment 
upon  the  chief  criminal?". 

"Doubts  as  to  liow  far  I  am  justified — an  En- 


.i^s. 


>»  f 


7 


268 


UNDER   8EAI.KT)   ORDERS. 


T 


glishman   to   all   iatouts   and    purposes,    and   a 
British    subject — " 

''In  avenging?  your  father's  death,"  Mr,  Hay- 
ward  cried,^  interrupting  him,  "your  mother's 
madness,  Owen  Cazelet,  your  sister's  exile! 
Sergius  Selistoff,  is  that  what  you  raeauy  You 
turn  your  back  now  on  the  Cause,  and  on  mar- 
tyred Russia  V" 

His  expression  was  si  terrible,  so  j>ained,  so 
injured— there  was  such  a  fir©  in  his  eye,  such  a 
tremor  in  his  voic^e,  such  an  earnestness  in  his 
manner,  that  Owen,  now  face  to  face  with  that 
cherished  and  idolized  teacher,  and  away  from 
lone,  folt  his  resolution  totter,  and  his  knees  sink 
under  him.  For  a  moment  he  paused,  then  sud- 
denly he  broke  forth,  this  time  in  Russian. 

"Lambert  Hayward,"  ho  said,  using  the  fa- 
miliar Russian  freedom  of  the  Christian  name, 
"I  must  speak  out.  I  mu.st  explain  to  you.  For 
weeks  and  weeks  this  crisis  has  been  coming  on, 
and  my  mind  within  me  growing  more  and  more 
divided.  I'm  a  man,  now,  you  see,  and  a  man's 
thoughts  rise  up  in  me,  and  give  me  doubt  and 
disturbance.  Oh,  for  weeks,  for  your  sake,  I've 
dreaded  this  day.  I' ve  hated  the  bare  idea.  I've 
shrunk  from  teHing  you.  If  it  hadn't  been  for 
this  special  need*,  I  could  never,  I  believe,  have 
niiide  up  my  mind  to  toll  you.  I  wish  I  could 
have  died  first.  But  I  can!t— I  can't  go  int:>  the 
diplomatic  service." 

Mr.  Hayward  gaj^ed  at  him  still,  riveted  in  his 
revolving  chair,  with  glassy  eyes  like  a  carpse, 
and  white  hands,  and  rigid  features.     The  change 


.4 


V* 


RS. 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS/ 


269 


rposes,    and   a 

th,"  Mr.  Hay- 
yoiir  mother's 
sister's  exile ! 
u  moan":'  You 
?,  and  on  mar- 

»,  so  paint-d,  so 
his  eye,  such  a 
nestncss  in  his 

faco  with  that 
ind  away  from 
I  his  knees  sink 
used,  then  sud- 

Russian. 

I,  iisin^  the  fa- 
!;!hristian  name, 
in  to  j'ou.  For 
»een  coming  on, 

more  and  more 
ee,  and  a  man's 
e  me  doubt  and 
your  sake,  I've 
bare  idea.  I've 
hadn't  been  for 
I  believe,  have 

I  wish  I  could 
an't  go  int:>  the 

II,  riveted  in  his 
3s  like  a  carpse, 
■es.     The  change 


that  was  coming  over  him  appalled  rnd  terrified 
Owen.  He  had  expected  a  great  shock,  but  noth- 
ing so  visible,  so  physical  as  this,  Mr.  Hay  ward 
nodded  his  head  once  or  twice  like  an  imbecile. 
Then  with  an  effort  ho  answered  in  a  very  hol- 
low voice,  "For  my  sake,  you  say  only,  for  my 
sake,  for  ?/(/«e.  But  how  about  Russia?  Holy, 
martyred  Russia?" 

Owen  folt,  vvith  a  glow  of  shame,  that  in  the 
heat  of  the  moment,  he  had  NvhoUy  forgotten  her. 

But  he  didn't  wound  his  friend's  feelings  still 
more  deeply  than  he  need  by  admitting  that  fact. 
"I  would  do  much  for  Russia,"  he  said  slowly, 
"very  much  for  Russia." 

"You  ought  to,"  Mr.  Hay  ward  interjected, 
raising  one  bloodless  hand,  and  speaking  in  the 
voice  of  a  dying  man,  "for  you  owe  everything 
to  her;  your  birlh,  your  blood,  your  fine  brain, 
your  great  strength,  your  training,  your  educa- 
tion, your  very  existence  in  every  way." 

"Yes,  I  would  do  much  for  Russia,"  Owen 
went  on,  picking  his  phrase  with  difficulty,  and 
feeling  his  heart  like  a  stone — for  every  word 
wtxs  a  death-knell  to  Mr.  Hayward's  hopes— "if 
I  felt  certain  of  my  end,  and  of  the  fitness  and 
suitability  of  my  means  for  producing  it.  But 
I've  begun  to  have  doubts  aljout  this  scheme  for 
— for  the  jiunishment  of  tbe  chief  bureaucrat. 
I'm  not  so  sure  as  I  once  was  I  should  be  justi- 
fied in  firing  at  him." 

For  a  second  the  old  light  flashed  in  Mr.  Hay- 
ward's  eyes.     "Not  certain,"  he  cried,  raising" 
his  voice  to  an  imwonted  pitch — but  they  were 


Mi 


•■f* 


m 


t  _ 


KftMSI 


p  ^ 


i& 


UKDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


r 


BtiU  speaking  Russian— "not  certaiu  you  would 
bo  justified  in  striking  a  blow  at  the  system  that 
sent  your  father  to  the  mines,  and  your  mother 
to  tlie  madhouse!     Not  covtain   you  would   be 
justilied  in  punishing  the  man  who  sits  like  an 
incubus  at  tlie  head  of  an  organized  despotism 
whicli  drives  the  dear  ones  whom  we  love  to 
languish  in  the  cells  of  its  central  prisons,  and 
wrings  the  last  drop  of  red  heartblood  daily  from 
a  miserable   pevsantry!     An    Englishman,   you 
say,  and  a  British  subject.     How  can  you  be 
happy  here,  in  this  land  of  oxile,  while  in  the 
country  where  you  werc^  born  people  are  dymg 
of  hunger  by  the  hundred  at  a  time  because  a 
czar  snatches  from  them  their  last  crust  of  bread, 
and  confiscates  the  very  husks  under  the  name  of 
taxes?     Is  it  right?  is  it  human?  Owen  Cazalet 
—Sergius  Selisl  )ff— you  break  my   heart— I'm 
ashamed  of  you." 

Mr.   Hayvvard  ashamed  of  him.     Owen  bent 
down   his   head    in   horror    and    remorse.      His 
friend's  words  went  right  through  him  like  a 
keen  sharp  sword.     For  the  worst  of  it  all  was, 
in  the  main,  he  admitted  their  justice.     He,  a 
Russian  born,  son  and  heir  of  a  Russian  martyr, 
nursed  on  Nihilist  milk,  fed  on  Nihilist  bread, 
reared  with  care  by  the  great  head  of  the  Nihilist 
Cause  in  England— how  could  he  turn  his  back 
now  upon  the  foster-mother  faith  that  had  suckled 
and  nurtured  him?     If  only  he  could  have  kept 
to  his  childish  belief!     If  only  he  could  have 
drunk  in  all  those  lessons  as  he  ought.     But, 
alas,  he  couldn't.     Take  it   how   you  will,   no 


^  -%»- 


mM 


UNDER   SEALED    ORnERS. 


371 


&-<   c>: 


>} 


iu  yoii  would 
lo  system  that 
I  j'our  mother 
'ou  would   bo 
10  sits  like  au 
zed  despotism 
m  we  love  to 
,1  prisons,  and 
ood  daily  from 
^lishman,   you 
iv  can  you  be 
,  while  in  the 
ople  are  dying 
;imo  because  a 
crust  of  bread, 
er  the  name  of 
Owen  Cazalet 
ny   heart — I'm 

1.  Owen  bent 
remorse.  His 
gh  him  like  a 
,t  of  it  all  was, 
justice.  He,  a 
lussian  martyr, 
Nihilist  bread, 
I  of  the  Nihilist, 
e  turn  his  back 
hut  had  suckled 
;ould  have  kept 
he  could  have 
e  ought.  But, 
V   you  will,   no 


good  Nihilist  can  be  ruared  on  English  soil. 
You  need  the  near  presence  of  despotism  in  bod- 
ily form,  and  the  horror  it  awakens  by  direct 
revulsion,  to  get  the  conditions  that  produce  that 
particular  strain. 

Such  organisms  can  evolve  in  no  other  envi- 
ronment. Ashamed  and  disgraced  and  heart- 
broken as  he  felt,  Owen  con  Id  111  have  fired  one 
shot  at  a  concrete  czar  if  heVl  seen  liim  that 
moment. 

Ho  may  have  been  right.  He  may  have  been 
wrong.  .But  facts  are  facts,  and  at  any  rate,  he 
couhhi''t. 

Ho  gazed  at  Mr.  Hay  ward  in  an  agony  of  re- 
morse. Then  he  hid  his  face  in  his  hands.  The 
hot  tears  ran  down  his  cheek,  big  strong  man  as 
he  was.  "Oh,  this  is  terrible,"  he  said,  "terri- 
ble. It  cuts  me  to  the  heart,  Mr.  Hayward,  that 
I  must  make  you  so  miserable!" 

The  white-faced  Chief  stared  back  at  him  with 
a  stony  pallor  on  those  keen  cl  ar  features. 
"Make  me  so  miserable,"  he  cried  again,  wring- 
ing liis  numbed  hands  iu  despair.  "Every  time 
you  say  that,  you  show  me  only  the  more  how 
little  the  Cause  itself  has  over  been  to  you. "  He 
8ei;wd  his  ward's  hands  suddenly.  "Owen  Caz- 
alet," ho  exclaimed,  gazing  hard  at  him,  "listen 
here,  listen  here  to  me.  For  twenty  years,  dsty 
and  night,  I've  had  but  one  dream,  one  hope, 
one  future.  I've  lived  for  the  day  when  that 
great  strong  hand  of  yours— should  clutch  the 
chief  criminal's  throat,  or  bury  a  knife  in  his 
bosom.  .  .  .    For  twenty  years — tweniyj'ears,  day 


•  -^ 


■>>Z 


t 


'fii 


*r>. 


.■■:*r 


-■  i\ 


^tmmmm 


273 


UNPBR   SEALED   ORDERS. 


\ 


aud  night,  cue  droam,  one  hope,  ore  future.  .  .  .  • 
Aud  now  that  you  break  it  all  down  with  a  sin- 
gle cruel  blow— not  wholly  unexpeotod,  but  none 
the  lesB  oru'd  and  crushing  for  all  that— is  it  of 
myiolf  I  thmk,  of  ray  ruined  life,  of  my  blasted 
expoctatious?     No,  no,  I  tell  you,  no— ten  thou- 
sand times  .10.     I  think  only  of  Russia,  bleeding, 
martyred   ylussia.     I  think  how  she  must  still 
wear  the  oil ains  you  might  have  struck  off  her. 
I  think  lio^v  hor  poor  children  must  sicken,  and 
starve,  aud  die,  and  languish,  in  gloomy  prisons 
or  in  stifling  mines,  because  you  have  been  un- 
true to  youL-  trust,  and  unfaithful  to  your  prom- 
ise.    I  think  but  of  her,  while  you  think  of  me! 
Let  my  poor  body  die.     Let  ray  ptwr  soul  burn 
in  burning  hell  forever,  but  •  give  freedom,  give 
life,  give  h(^po,  and  broad,  and  light,  and  air  to 
Russia!" 

As  he  spoke,  his  face  was  transfigured  to  an 
unearthly  beimty  Owen  had  never  before  'icen  in 
it.  The  enthusiasm  of  a  lifetime,  crushed  aud 
shattered  by  oue  deadly  blow,  seemed  to  effloresco 
all  ut  once  into  a  halo  of  martyrdom.  The  mai\ 
was  lovely  as  one  has  s:imetimps  seen  a  woman 
lovely  at  the  m  iment  of  the  consummation  of  ii 
lifelong  love.  V^ut  it  was  the  loveliness  of  de- 
spair, of  pathetic  resignation,  of  a  terrible 
blighting,    despondent  disillusion. 

Owen  gazed  at  him  and  felt  his  own  heart 
grow  eoid  like  a  stone.  He  would  have  given 
worlds  that  momem  to  feel  once  more  ho  hun- 
gered and  thirsted  ior  the  blood  of  a  «.ar.  r>Ht 
he   didn't  feel   it,   he   couldn't  feel  it,   and  ho 


ie  future.  ... 
fii  with  a  Bin- 
ntocl,  but  none 

that — is  it  of 
of  my  blasted 
no — ten  thou- 
ssia,  bleeding, 
^he  must  still 
struck  off  her. 
ist  sicken,  and 
jloomy  prisons 
have  been  un- 
to your  proni- 
7,  think  of  nic! 
KX)r  soul  biirn 

freedom,  give 
ght,  and  air  to 

afigured  to  an 
■  before  seen  in 
i>,  mushed  and 
led  to  cfflores(>o 
om.  The  man 
seen  a  woman 
iimmation  of  n 
3veliness  of  de- 
of    a    terrible 


\ 


«^^«^'":=  *'  ,3^; 


UNDER  SEALKn   ORDERS. 


^73 


wouldn't  pretend  to  it.  He  could  only  look  on 
in  silont  jiity  and  awe  at  this  sad  wreck  of  a 
great  hope,  this  sudden  collapse  of  a  lifelong 
enthusiasm. 

At  last  Mr.  Hayward  spake  again.  His  voice 
was  thick  and"  hard.  "Is  it  this  girl?"  ho  asked, 
with  an  eff.rt.     "Tliis  lone  Dracopoli?" 

Owen  was  too  proud  to  toll  a  lie  or  to  prevari- 
cate. "It  i,s,".he  said  trembling.  "I've  talked 
it  all  over  v.-ith  lone  for  weeks,  and  I  love  her 
dearly." 

The  Chief  rose  slowly,  and  groped  his  way 
across  the   room   toward   the  boll   like  a  blind 
man.     "Talked   it   over   with    lone!"   he   cried 
aloud.     "Talked  it  over  with  a  woman!     Be- 
trayed tho  Cause— divulged  tho  secret!     Owen 
Cazalet,  Owen  Cazalot,  I  Avould  never  have  be- 
lieved it  of  you !"     Half  way  across  tho  room  ho 
stopped  and  groaned    aloud.     He  put  his  hand- 
kerchief to  his  mouth.     Owen  rushed  at  him  in 
horror.     It  whs  red,  red,  red.     Then   ho  knew 
what  had  happenetl.     The  strain  had  been  too 
much  for  Mr.  Hayward's  iron  frame.     God  grant 
it  hadn't  killed  him !     He  had  broken  a  blood 
vessel  1 


'^m^ 


•  '''-IS 


-4 


his  own  heart 
dd  have  given 
3  more  he  Imn- 
)f  a  ci^ar.  Viat 
Peel  it,   and  he 


•  ■s. 


■■ 


»-• 


w<' 


274 


UNDER   SKALKD   ORDBKS. 
S 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

U  K  <  M  N  N  I  N  U      A  K  K  K  H  H  . 

In  a  very  few  minutoH,  n  doctor  w/iM  on  th«^ 
spot.  Lfirge  blotxl-voBBel  on  the  lung  lie  Bald. 
It  might  of  course  bo  seriouK.  Patient  mustni 
on  any  account  go  down  to  Ealing,  wliore  ho 
lived,  that  night.  Would  it  do,  Owen  asked,  iti 
take  him  round  in  a  hansom  to  a  flat  near  Vic- 
toria Street?  The  very  thing,  the  doctor  an- 
swered. Only,  carry  him  up  the  stairs.  So  in 
less  than  half  an  hour,  the  phalanstery  was  in- 
creased by  a  now  member,  and  Mr.  Hayward 
found  himself  comfortably  tucke<l  up  in  lone's 
pretty  bed  with  the  cretonne  curtains.  ;  . 

Oh,  irony  of  fate!  And  lone  was  the  Eve 
who  had  ruined  Russia! 

He  remained  there  a  week;  and  Owen  stoppwl 
on  with  hita.  lone  and  Blackbird  shared  a  ])ed- 
room  together  meanwhile;  but  Owen  slept  out  at 
a  house  round  the  corner,  spending  the  day  and 
taking  his  meals  all  the  time  with  the  communi- 
ty. There  was  no  lack  of  nurses,  indeed.  Owen 
himself  was  assiduous,  and  Mr.  Hayward,  in  spite 
( f  his  deep  despondency,  still  loved  to  have  his 
pupil  and  ward  beside  him.     It  pleased  him  a 


I 


)l . 

ir  wiiM  on  th< 
ling  he  fmii]. 
ktient  muHtiii 
j(<,    wliore  ho 
won  Hsked,  in 
flat  near  Vic- 
le   doctor   au- 
fltairs.     So  in 
istery  was  in- 
Mr.  Hay  ward 
up  in  Tone's 
ns. 
waH  the  Eve 


Ovvon  stopped 
shared  a  bed- 
^n  slept  out  at 
r  the  iay  tmd 
the  communi- 
ideed.  Owen 
rward,  in  spito 
1  to  have  his 
)leased  him  a 


mm 


i 


r 


UNDKU   KK.VI.KD   OKDRRH. 


978 


littlo— very  little — town)  that  ovon  if  Owou  liuj 
fallen  uvvny  from  his  fii-Ht  lovo  for  Russia,  ho  ro 
tainod  nono  tho  loys  his  jKTsonal  dovotinn  to  his 
fficiid  and  iiiHtriictiir.  Then  thore  wero  loiio  mul 
Sacha  ami  lUackbivd  as  well,  all  cagoi-  to  attoiid 
to  tho  Hiok  mau'w  wants;  for  strange  to  nay,  now 
tho  worst,  UH  sho  thought,  was  ovlt,  xouo  folt  no 
rcpugnuncu  at  u,11  to  thotorrihlolluHsian  who  had 
heen  so  long  her  bugbear;  on  thu  ('ontrary,  in 
her  womanly  way,  aho  ri'uliy  j)itiod  and  sympa- 
thized with  him.  And  Mr.  Hayward,  though 
he  r(VL,Midcd  Tout-  a-!  t\\o  prinio  mover  in  tho 
downl  U  oi'  hirf  lifo-long  hopes,  y>-t  felt  very 
strongly  hor  personal  f asoinixtion ;  so  etrangoly 
(•.ni8fii:iui,u:i^ii.e  wo,  bC complex,  so  many-strandotl, 
that  as  ]\ii  loved  OwoS  himself,  so  ho  couldn't 
help  loN-iu^r  loQo  too,  bei^aUHc  aho  loved  Ov/eii, 
and  becarjo  Qwou  loved  hef-  In  tho  vast  blank 
left  l)j'  t,io  utter  collapse  of  that  twouty-yo^v 
i  rheme  <^  iii^,  it  was  some  faint  1 1  ■nfor+  +;j  [^{^^■^ 
to  fool  tjjit  loving  hands  at  least  were  Btrf^trfihed 
out  witlout  stint  to  sooth  and  console  a\m. 

-A-3  Mr  Sacha,  she  had  always  resj^ected  and 
veneraod  Mr.  Hayward  almost  as  muoh  as  Oweu 
himsol;  jjj.  Q,^  jjj^j.^  he  had  claims  of  {rratitude  in 
nianymauy  ways;  sho  remembered  him  as  tho 
kind  Hond  of  their  early  days,  the  o^e  link  with 
hor  c  ildiah  life,  tho  bravo  ally  of  th  oir  mother  in 
lior  ^^irKcst  hours,  tho  preserver  w)  xo  had  saved 
thcnfiom  the  cruel  hand  of  Russi  an  despotism. 
An(3t;hQ  grave,  solemn  earnestnes  3  of  the  bian 
toW^lso  on  her  calm  but  prof  ounc'  ([y  impression- 
ttbh  Slavonic   nature.     Mr.    Ha  y^ard  in  fact 


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TINDER   HBALUU   ORDKR8. 


la 


m 


struck  a  chord  in  8acha'8  being  which  no  mere 
Western  could  touch;  she  felt  herself  strangely- 
akin  to  him  by  the  subtle  link  of  ethnical  kin- 
ship. 

On  the  second  morning  of  his  illness,  when 
Mr.  Hayvvard,  more  conscious  now,  was  just 
beginning  to  re-awake  to  the  utter  nothingnesH 
of  his  future,  a  ring  came  at  the  electric  bell, 
which  lone  ran  to  answer.  Blackbird  was  sit- 
ting just  then  by  the  sick  man's  bedside,  singing 
spft  and  low  to  him  a  plaintive  song  of  her  own 
composing:::.  It  was  a  song  about  how  sweet 
'twould  be  these  cramping  brHinds  tr>  sever,  to  lie 
beneath  the  soil,  froo  from  earth's  care  and  moil, 
life's  round  of  joyless  toil,  and  sleep  one  dream- 
less sleep  forever.  At  tiiat  moment,  on  the  last 
line,  the  bell  rang  sharp,  and  lone,  who  had  been 
seated  at  the  other  side  of  the  bed,  holding  her 
enemy's  hand  in  her  own,  and  soothing  it  gently 
with  those  plump  round  fingers,  jumped  up  in 
haste  at  the  familiar  summons  to  the  door,  and 
ran  out  to  open  it. 

As  she  opened,  she  saw  a  lady  of  mature  but 
striking  beauty,  with  large  magnetic  eyes,  which 
she  seemed  vaguely  to  recollect  having  seen  be- 
fore somewhere.  Then  it  came  back  to  her  rll 
at  once— Lady  Be,%umont'p  At  Home— the  Rup- 
sian  agent— that  d.-eadful  Madame  Mireff— tlie 
spy!  thespv!— whaj  could  sfw  bo  wanting  here 
at  such  an  untowarl  moment? 

in  one  second,  loae  was  a  Nihilist  full-fledged. 
An  emissary  of  the  Czar  come  so  soon  on  the  prowi 
after  Our  Mr.  Hayward  I  (for  she  adopted  him  on 


BR8. 

which  no  mere 
jrself  strangely 
tf  ethnical  kin- 

?  illness,  when 
now,    was  just 
ter  nothingnesH 
e  electric   bell, 
ickbird  was  sit- 
edside,  singing 
ong  of  her  own 
)ut  how  sweet 
tr>  sever,  to  lie 
care  and  moil, 
3ep  one  dream- 
in  t,  on  the  last 
who  had  been 
>d,  holding  her 
thing  it  gently 
jumped  up  in 
I  the  door,  ?,nd 

of  mature  but 
;ic  eyes,  which 
fiving  seen  be- 
)ack  to  her  rll 
)Tne— the  Rup- 
le  Mireff — the 
wanting  here 

it  full-fledged, 
n  on  the  prowi 
lopted  him  on 


' 


UKDER  SBAIiBD  ORDERS. 


m 


the  spot  as  part  and  pfycel  of  the  phalanstery). 
This  was  abominable,  shameful!  But  she  rose 
to  the  occasion.  You  must  tivat  spies  as  spies ; 
meet  lies  with  lies;  trump  treachery  with  trick- 
ery. At  that  instant,  lone,  born  woman  that 
she  was,  would  have  put  off  Madame  Mireff  with 
any  falsehood  that  came  handy,  rather  than  ad- 
mit to  the  Czar's  agent  the  incriminating  fact 
that  they  were  harboring  a  hunted  and  perse 
cuted  Nihilist.  He  might  have  wanted  to  send 
Owen  to  his  death,  no  doubt;  and  for  that  she 
could  hate  him  herself,  it  was  her  right  as  a 
woman;  but  no  third  persan,  above  all  a  Russian 
spy,  should  over  get  ont  of  her,  by  torture  or 
treason,  by  force  or  fraud,  by  will  or  guile,  the 
very  faintest  admi»jion  of  Mr.  Hayward's  pres- 
ence. 

Madame  Mireff,  however,  smiling  her  very 
friendliest  smile — oh,  how  lone  hated  her  for  it — 
the  serpent!  the  reptile! — handed  her  card  very 
graciously  ti  the  indignant  girl.  lone  darted 
an  angry  glance  at  it — "Madame  Mireff,  Hotel 
Metropole,"  At  least  then  the  creature  had  the 
grace  to  acknowledge  openly  who  she  was — to  put 
the  whole  world  on  its  guard  against  her  as  a  Rus- 
sian detective.  "Oh,  Miss  Dracopoli,"  madame 
said  in  her  softest  voior.,  flooding  lone  with  the 
light  of  these  lustrous  eyes,  "T  recollect  you  .so 
well.  I  had  the  pleasure,  you  know  —  Lady 
Beaumont'fl — you  remember. "  Tone  just  nodded 
an  ungracious  assent,  as  far  as  that  head  and 
neck  of  hers  could  make  themselves  ungracious. 
"Well,"  madame  went  on,  divining  her  inmost 


01 


278 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


"I 


thought,  ami  still  bont  cii  fabcination,  "I  come 
to-day  us  a  friend,  ^'ou've  uo  need  to  he  afraid 
of  ine.  I  won't  Jisk  whether  Mr.  Hayward's 
hero,  for  I  know  you'll  toll  me  he  isn't;  I  see 
that  in  your  eyes;  but  will  you  take  in  my  card 
and  bo  no  kind  us  to  -show  it  to  everybody  in  the 
house,  for  some  of  them,  I  believe,  might  i)o  glad 
to  Bee  me. ' ' 

"There's  no  Mr.  Hay  ward  here,"  lone  an- 
swered b.ddly,  looking  Htraight  in  her  visitor't; 
eyes,  and  telling  her  lio  outright,,  with  a  very 
bold  face,  as  any  good  woman  and  true  would 
tell  it  in  the  circumstances.  "There's  only  our- 
selves—just th'^  regular  family.  Miss  ^Braith- 
waite  you  don't  know.  And  as  for  Owen  and 
Sacha,  I'm  sure  they  never  want  as  long  as  they 
live  to  meet  you." 

It  wasn't  polite,  but  it  was  straight  as  a  die; 
for  lone's  one  wish  now  wns  to  keep  the  Russian 
spy  from  entering  the  premises. 

Madame  Mireff,  however,  sympathized  with 
the  girl's  feelings  too  well  not  to  be  thoroughly 
prepared  for  this  sharp  reception.  She  smiled 
once  more,  and  once  more  tried  all  her  spells  (in 
vain)  on  lone.  "My  child,"  she  said  kindly, 
"you're  mistaken — quite  mistaken.  I  come  as 
a  friend.  I  ask  for  no  one.  I  only  beg  you  to 
take  my  card  in  as  I  say  and  show  it  to  every 
one  in  all  j-our  household." 

lone  hesitated.  No  harm  in  taking  it,  after 
all;  indeed,  till  Mr.  Hay  ward  had  seen  it,  she 
hardly  knew  what  to  do.  But  she  wasn't  going 
to  leave  the  strange  woman  out  there  alone,  un- 


QRS. 


■■li,.: 


\ 


TTNBRR  SKALED   ORDERS. 


879 


mtion,  "I  como 
Qod  t  J  be  af  mid 
>Ir.    Hiiy ward's 

he  isn't;  I  see 
ike  in  inv  card 
rei-yhody  in  tho 

might  ho  glad 

ore,"  lone  an- 
iu  her  visitor't; 
tj  with  a  very 
ud  true  wouhl 
lere's  only  our- 
Miss  ;,Braith- 
for  Owen  and 
IS  long  as  they 

light  as  a  die ; 
:)p  the  Russian 

pathized  with 
be  thoronghl}' 
.  She  smiled 
1  her  spells  (in 
said  kindly, 
I  come  as 
nlj;  beg  you  to 
)W  it  to  every 

iking  it,  after 
d  seen  it,  she 
I  wasn't  going 
ere  alone,  un- 


watcLed  and  unguarded,  "Blackbinl,"  she 
called  aloud,  "just  come  out  here  a  minute !" 
....  Then  in  a  whisper:  "Look  here;  stand 
there,  and  keep  an  eye  on  this  dreadful  woman. 
Don't  let  her  come  in.  If  she  tries  to  pass  you, 
throw  your  arms  round  her  at  onoe,  and  cling  to 
her  for  dear  life,  and  scream  out  at  the  top  of 
your  voice  for  Owen." 

Poor  Blaclbird,  somewhat  startled  by  these 
strange  directions,  took  her  place  timidly  where 
she  was  told,  and  kept  her  own  eyes  fixed  on  thy 
large-e^ed  woman.  Mesmeric,  she  fancied;  the 
kind  of  person  to  send  j'ou  into  a  sleep,  a  deli- 
clous  long  sleep,  where  no  Greek  verbs  would 
trouble  your  brain,  no  dreams  disturb  you!  But 
lone,  tripping  scornfully  in,  carried  the  card  in 
her  hand  to  Mr.  Hayward's  bedside,  and  hold  it 
before  him  without  a  word,  t.>  pass  his  own  judg- 
ment on  it. 

A  wan  smile  came  over  the  sick  man's  pale 
face.  "What?  Olga,  dear Olga!"  ho  said,  like 
one  pleased  and  comforted.   "Show  her  in,  lone !" 

"But  she's  a  i Russian  spy,"  lone  objected  im- 
prudently. 

Mr.  Hay  ward  looked  vxp  at  her  wUh  a  white 
face  of  horror.  ""What  do  you  know  about  all 
this?"  he  asked  sternly.  "This  is  treason! 
This  is  betrayal  I" 

Poor  lone!  Tho  words  came  upon  her  like  a 
shock  of  cold  water.  She  had  been  thinking 
only  of  protecting  him ;  and  this  was  how  he  re- 
paid her.  But  even  so,  she  remembered  first  her 
duty  to  Owen,     "^e  never  told  me!"  she  said 


280 


UNDER   SKALED   ORDERS. 


proudly,  "//e  never  betrayed  you!  You  be- 
trayed j'oursolf.  I  found  it  out,  all  by  guesa 
work,  that  first  night  in  Moro<!co." 

Mr.  Hayward  ran  over  with  his  glance  that 
pretty  chestnut  hair,  those  merry  frank  eyes, 
and  groaned  invpardly,  audibly.  He  had  let  out 
his  secret,  theu,  himself,  himself  to  babes  and 
sucklings  I  He  had  betrayed  his  own  Cause  to  a 
girl,  a  woman  I  "Well,  I'll  hear  more  of  this 
some  other  day,"  he  murmured,  after  a  short 
pause.  "It's  all  terrible!  terrible!  Mean- 
while, show  her  in.     I  should  like  to  see  Olgu." 

lone,  all  trepidation,  went  out  and  fetched  the 
spy  in.  Madame  Mireff,  without  a  word,  took 
the  Master's  hand  in  hers  and  pressed  it  warmly. 
Tears  stood  in  both  their  eyes.  "What  it  all 
meant,  lone  knew  not.  But  she  could  see  at  a 
glance  both  were  deeply  affected.  And  even 
when  they  began  to  speak,  she  couldn't  make 
out  a  word;  for  it  was  all  in  Russian. 

"A  blood-vessel,  they  tell  me,  dear  friend," 
madame  whispered,  loaning  over  him. 

Prince  Brassoff  sighed.  "A  blood-vessel !"  he 
answered  with  intense  scorn.  "If  that  were  all, 
Olga,  it  could  soon  be  mended !  No — ruin — be- 
trayal— treason — despair — my  life-work  spoiled 
— my  dearest  plans  all  shattered." 

Olga  Mireff  clasped  her  hands  in  silent  awe 
and  alarm.  "Not  Sorgius  Selistoff's  son!"  she 
cried. 

The  despairing  Nihilist  gave  a  nod  of  assent. 
"Yes,  Sergius  Selistoff's  son!"  he  answered. 
"In  love  with  a  woman." 


ts. 


UNDER   SEALSD  ORDtiJRS. 


«81 


ou!    You  be- 
all  by  guess 

is  glanco  that 
y  frank  oyes, 
He  had  let  out 
to  babos  and 
wn  Cause  to  a 

more  of  this 
after  a  short 
rible !  Meau- 
I  to  see  Olga." 
nd  fetched  the 

a  word,  took 
3ed  it  warmly. 
What  it  all 
could  see  at  a 
And  even 
ouldn't  make 
an. 

dear  friend," 

ini. 

3d- vessel!"  he 

that  were  all, 
'^o — ruin — be- 

■work  spoiled 

in  silent  awe 
f's  son!"  she 

od  of  assent, 
le  answered. 


"And  he  refuses  to  go  ? "  madamo  asked 
warmly. 

"And  he  refuses  to  go!"  Rurie  Brassoff  re- 
peated in  a  dreamy  voice.  "Ho  refuses  to  go. 
Says  his  conscience  prevents  him." 

"Has  he  told  her?"  mndumo  gasjxid  out. 

"I  don't  know.  Sheswoare  not.  And  I  think 
she  speaks  the  truth.  Thf.t's  she  that  stands 
there  by  the  bed  beside  you." 

Madame  took  a  gootl  stnre  at  her.  lone  knew 
they  were  talking  of  her,  though  she  coxildn't 
make  out  the  words,  and  she  winced  internally. 
But  she  smiled  none  the  less  her  sunny  Greek 
smile,  and  tried  to  seem  as  unconcerned  as  if 
they  were  discussing  the  weather. 

"A  fine  girl,"  madame  murmured,  after  sur- 
veying her  close.  "Fr.3e,  bold,  Slavonic.  The 
girl  who  crossed  Morocco  on  horseback  like  a 
man.  Greek,  if  I  recollect.  The  right  sort,  too. 
Fearless,  unconventional,  independent,  Hellenic. 
Good  stuff  for  our  work.  She  ought  to  be  one 
of  us." 

"She  has  ruined  us!"  Ruric  Brassoff  cried. 
"And  j-et— for  Owen's  sake— Olga,  it  sounds 
strange— I  tell  you,  I  love  her." 

"Couldn't  we  win  her  over?"  madame  falt- 
ered, 

The  Chief  shook  his  head.  "No,  impossible," 
he  replied.  "Olga,  all  that's  a  closed  book  for- 
ever. I'm  a  ruin,  a  wreck ;  my  life  is  cut  from 
under  me.  I've  no  heart  to  begin  again.  I 
risked  all  on  one  throw— and  the  dipe  have  gone 
straight  against  me.  ..  .     Russia  isn't  lost.     She 


28^ 


UNP'-IR  SEALED   OKDRR8. 


K'ti^i 


will  yot  bo  Iroo.     But  others   will  free  her,  not 
I.     i\ry  work  is  Hni^hod." 

He  threw  his  head  back  on  the  pillow.  He 
was  deadly  palti  now.  lone  saw  somethinR  had 
moved  him  deeply.  She  lifted  his  head  withont 
a  word,  and  <j;ave  him  some  brandy.  It  seemed 
to  revive  him.  He  held  her  liarid  and  j)re88ed  it. 
Madame  Mi  toff  t')ok  the  other.  He  pressed  hers 
too  in  return.  "Dear  Olga!  Dear  lone!"  ho 
murmured  aloud,  in  Euglish.  And  so  they  three 
sat  there  together  for  half  an  hour  npon  the  bod, 
hand  in  hand,  in  mute  sympathy — lone  and  the 
"dreadful  man";  the  Russian  spy  and  the  Chief 
of  the  Nihilists  1 


ISi 


END   OF    PART   ONE. 


•iMt 


U  free  her,  not 

;he  pillow.  He 
Homethiop  had 
is  head  without 
\y.  It  Heemed 
and  pressed  it. 
He  jjressed  hers 
)oivr  lone!"  ho 
id  HO  they  three 
r  upou  the  bod, 
—lone  and  tho 
r  an<l  the  Chief 


NEW  PR0CK8S 


DOG   BISCUIT 


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UNDER  SEALED 
;     ORDERS 

'4^:^:-   '■■■ 


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Pirns  FRiriiLON  Colukr 
in  tbeOmce  of  tba  Ubrari-^n  of  Cotun-ess  at  Wsshlnirtoo. 


Ife 


f  u 


Angular  Women 


are  angular  because  they  are  thin. 
Cover  their  bones  with  solid  flesh 
and  aijigles  <jive  way  to  curves  of 
beauty. 

Scott's 
Emulsion 


of  Cod-liver  Oil,  with  hypophosphites, 
produces  health)'  flesh.  Insures  an 
even  development  in  children.  Pliy- 
siaans,  the  world  over,  endorse  it. 


—  V'^y-*.'\y~- 


ScoU's  Emulsion  is  a  nourishing  food 
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Prepared  by  SCOTT  &,  BOWNE,  U,  Biisgglsfs  seii  It. 


-B< 


>men 

f   are    thin. 

solid    flesh 

curves    of 


5 


( 
I 

phosphites,    \ 

nsures   an'  \ 

Iren.     Pfiy-    ! 

idorse  it.        5 

ri?.hing  food     | 
s  the  blood    ] 

ygglsts  seil  it. 


*!<"v/t'P-''-   -A;'v..r.   ^:.v.,i^ 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


.  ;    *.       .     CHAPTER  XXX. 

'  THE   RULE   OF   THE   ORDBK. 

For  tho  rest  of  that  week,  Olga  Mireff  came 
daily  and  watched  by  Ruric  Brassoff's  bedside. 
As  usual,  her  natural  charm  of  manner  and  her 
magnetic  attractiveness  soon  succeeded  in  over- 
coming all  suspicious  foars  on  the  part  of  the 
little  community.  Madame  grew  quite  fond  of 
lone  and  lone  of  her;  while  Sacha,  when  once 
she  had  discovered  tlie  Czar's  spy  was  a  friend  in 
disguise,  could  have  done  anything  for  her  as 
one  of  "dear  Mr.  Hay  ward's"  admirers.  Before 
the  end  of  the  week,  though  no  secrets  were  told, 
no  criminating  word  overtly  spoken  between 
them — they  had  all  arrived  at  a  tacit  under- 
standing with  one  another  as  to  their  common 
acquaintance.  Madame  Mireff  in  particular  felt 
dimly  in  her  own  heart  'hat  Sacha  and  fone 
were  fully  aware  of  Mr.  Hayward's  being  a 
Russian  and  a  Nihilist,  though  they  didn't  spe- 
cifically identify  him  with  Prince  Ruric  Brass- 

(283) 


•^1 


>v    .-JJ* 


28^^ 


UNPKR  »KALBI)  ORDERS. 


off.  Aud'ns  loue  wiw  Jilwiiys  kindness  itself 
to  madanxo,  now  hIio  know  hor  for  one  of  Mr. 
liayward's  frionds,  and  vaj^iiely  suspoctwl  her  of 
being  a  Nihilist  too,  Madame  Miroff  gut  on  with 
her  as  she  always  got  on  with  everybody,  after 
the  first  tlush  of  prejudice  against  the  "KuBsiau 
spy"  had  had  time  to  wear  otf,  and  the  real 
wotnan  had  a88ert<Hl  liersolf  in  all  hor  womanly 
intonfity. 

As  for  Mr.  Ilayward  and  I(/ne,  they  liad  had 
things  out,  too,  between  themselvos  nu>aiiwhilt>. 
And  lone  had  made  Mr.  Hayward  seo  that  to 
her,  at  least,  Owen  had  never  betrayetl  him. 
She  told  that  nnhapp}'  revolutionist  everything; 
from  the  moment  when  she  tirrft  said  to  Owen  at 
Ain-Essa,  "The  man's  »).  Kussian!"  to  the  mo- 
ment when,  on  the  summit  of  the  down  at  Moor 
Hill,  she  blurted  out  her  intuitive  guess,  "You've 
pk)mi8ed  that  horrid  Nihilist  man  to  blow  up  the 
Czar  for  him."  She  made  it  all  quite  clear  to 
him  how  Owen  at  first  had  tried  to  avoid  hsr; 
how  pure  chance  liad  thrown  them  together 
again,  the  second  night  at  Beni-Mengolla;  how 
she  her'jelf  had  made  tho  arrangements  to  go 
and  live  with  Sacha;  how  Owen  had  fought 
Against  his  love,  while  she,  recognizing  it,  had 
brought  her  woman's  wits  to  fight  on  its  side, 
against  him;  and  how  she  had  conquered  in  the 
end,  only  by  surprising  and  telling  out  his  secret. 
All  this  lone  told,  as  only  lone  could  tell  it,  with 
jierfect  girlish  modesty  and  perfect  womanly 
frankness,  so  that  Mr.  Hayward  at  the  end 
couldn't  find  it  in  his  heart  to  say  a  word  of  re- 


mm 


)RDRRS. 


lys  kindness  itaelf 
ler  for  one  of  Mr. 
sly  Himpocted  hor  of 
Mircff  got  oil  with 
;b  everybody,  after 
ainHt  tile  "liussiun 
off,  and  the  roiil 
II  all  licr  womanly 

[one,  they  had  had 
iselvos  incaiiwhilo. 
lyward  neo  that  to 
vev  betrayotl  him. 
tioiiist  everything; 
'rft  said  to  Owen  at 
isian!"  to  the  mo- 

the  down  at  Moor 
ive guess,  "You've 
nan  to  blow  up  the 
;  all  quite  clear  to 
:ried  to  avoid  hsr; 
fn  them  together 
'ni-Mengolla;  how 
Tangements  to  go 
Owen  had  fought 
ecognizing  it,  had 
>  fight  on  its  side, 
d  conquered  in  the 
ling  out  his  secret. 
(  could  tell  it,  with 

perfect  womanly 
ward  at  the  end 
)  say  a  word  of  re- 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


proach  or  of  anger  against  her.  "Tout  savoir," 
says  the  wise  French  proverb,  "c'est  tout  par- 
douner."  And  if  Mr.  Hay  ward  didn't  quite  for- 
give all— that  wore  too  mucli  to  ask— at  least  he 
understood  it  and  in  a  great  part  condoned  it. 

One  day,  toward  the  end  of  the  wt>ek,  how- 
ever, a  ring  came  at  the  bell,  and  lone  went  oat 
to  the  door  to  answer  it.  "Telegram  for  Ma- 
dame MiroflE,"  the  boy  said.  "Sent  on  from  the 
Mettropoal."  lone  carried  it  in.  Madame  wtis 
seated  by  Mr.  Hay  ward's  bedsii'  >  with  that  rapt 
expression  of  joy  lone  had  often  noted  on  her 
speaking  features.  It  seemed  to  do  her  good  just 
to  be  near  Ruric  Brassoff — just  to  hold  his  thin 
hand,  just  to  watch  his  sad  countenance.  She 
tore  it  open  carelessly.  "From  Lord  (.'aistor,  no 
doubt,"  she  said.  "He's  so  anxious  for  me  to 
go  down  for  their  house  party  to  She'rriugham." 

But  even  as  she  read  it,  a  dark  shade  passed 
over  her  face.  "It's  hard  for  a  man  to  serve 
two  masters,"  she  said  in  Russian,  as  she  passed 
it  across  with  a  sigh  to  Ruric  Brassoff.  "How 
much  harder,  then,  for  a  woman!" 

The  invalid  took  it  and  read  in  French,  "Re- 
turn at  once  to  Petersburg.  Most  important 
news.  Can't  trust  post.  No  delay.  Alexis 
Selistoff." 

He  drew  a  deep  sigh.  "You  must  go,  Olga," 
he  said  in  Russian.  "This  may  bode  ill  for  the 
Cause.  We  must  know  what  it  means,  at  any 
rate.  Though  it's  liard,  very  hard.  I'd  give 
anything  to  have  you  with  me  in  this  my  hour 
of  darkness," 


•'m 


--■3w»ssi^r,#gKi^'6i^-jftSki»'%^^ni;^**f^«e?^  ■- 


UNDER   HKALBI)   OKORK8. 


MivlHnii'  Miroff  roso  at  once,  and  went  Blackbird 
out  for  a  continental  Brat';<li!i\v.  In  half  an 
hour's  time,  nho  was  packing  hor  thingM  in  iior 
own  i-ojin  at  the  MetroiKjlo.  And  by  eijfht  tha 
uiglit  nhe  wart  at  C'liariug  Crows,  registering  he 
luggage  thruugli  via  '^stfnil,  Il'irlm,  and  Eydi 
Knhuen  to  St.  Petersburg. 

"Madame  Mireff — the  RuHsian  spy,"  pusaeii- 
gers  whispered  to  one  another,  nudging  mystcri- 
ously  as  she  [Hissed.  "Recalled  post-haste  to 
head<iuarters,  no  doubt.  Heanl  at  the  Metro- 
polo  to-day  she  was  sent  for  by  thir  Czar  at  a 
moment's  notice." 

Not  that  Madame  Mireflf  htfrwelf  had  ever  said 
BO.  The  unaccreditc'd  agent  disclaimed  official- 
dom even  more  strenuously  than  she  would  have 
disclaimed  the  faintest  suggestion  of  nihilism. 
But  when  once  you'vo  given  a  lady  the  character 
of  a  Russian  political  agent,  she  can't  move  hand 
or  foot  without  her  reasons  being  susiiected.  She 
can't  call  on  a  friend  without  everybody's  dis- 
covering in  it  some  deep  and  insidious  politic*^! 
import.  Madame  Mireff  had  left  hurriedly  for 
Russia  that  day;  so  the  inference  wtis,  the  Czar 
had  need  of  her. 

It  was  a  cold  journey,  that  bitter  January 
weather,  with  the  snow  lying  -thick  on  the 
ground  all  through  those  vast  level  fiats  of  the 
Baltic  coast,  past  Berlin,  and  Marieuburg,  and 
Eydt  Kuhnen,  to  St.  Petersburg.  But  Madame 
Mireff  traveled  on,  day  and  night,  unwearied 
in  spite  of  frost  and  snow,  never  resting  for  a 
moment  till  she  reached  her  own  house  in  the 


^r^^-- 


D18KB. 

lud  Ment  Blackbird 
!i\v.     In   half  Hii 
hor  things  in  h(»r 
V^nd  by  eight  tim 
8,  registering  he 
li'jrljn,  and  EyU 

ian  spy,"  imssKii- 
nidging  myHti'ri- 

llcd   |)(>st-hH8tO    to 

rtl  at  the  Motro- 
by  thir  Czar  at  i 

Helf  had  ever  said 
ischiimod  official- 
n  she  would  have 
tion  of  nihilism. 
!ady  the  character 
)  ean't  move  hand 
^  susjiected.  She 
;  everybody's  dis- 
naidious  politictil 
left  hurriedly  for 
ice  waa,  the  Czar 

t  bitter  January 
g  -thick  on  the 
level  flats  of  the 
Marieuburg,  and 
g.  But  Madame 
light,  unwearied 
i^er  resting  for  a 
)wn  house  in  the 


UNDER   SEALED  OKt>ER8. 


887 


Russian  capital.  And  she  hadn't  l)oon  homo 
Iialf  an  hour  to  warm  heif  elf  before  she  drove 
round  in  her  sloigh  to  the  Third  Section  where, 
Htill  chilled  from  her  journey,  she  vvjih  ushered 
up  at  once  by  au  obseipiious  orlerly  into  'Jeneral 
^)oli(4toff's  cabinet. 

The  general  shook  hands  with  her  warmly,  al- 
most affectionately.  "Ho  Bieh,  mudame,"  he 
said,  sitting  d'jwn  again,  and  twirling  his  gray 
mustache  between  one  bronzed  flnger  and  thumb, 
"how  about  Ruric  Biumh  )ff?" 

Madame  repressed  a  nascent  start  with  no 
small  effort.  It  was  a  critical  moment.  Was 
there  some  traitor  in  the  camp/  Had  Owen  let 
slip  some  unguarded  phrase?  Had  lone — but 
no.  She  recovered  her  self-possession  almost  be- 
fore she  had  lost  it.  This  was  a  life  and  death 
matter  for  her.  for  Russia,  and  for  Ruric  Brass- 
off.  "Not  a  trace  of  him,"  she  answered  stout- 
ly, in  her  most  matter-of-fact  tone.  "Not  a  sign 
of  him  anywhere.  Though  I've  hunted  high 
and  low,  I  can  learn  nothing  of  his  movements. 
I've  mixed  much  with  young  men  in  England- 
hotheaded  radical  young  men  —  Cunningham 
Graham  and  his  kind— the  sort  of  young  fire- 
brands who  know  Stepniak,  -rvl  Lavroff,  and 
Kropotkine  and  their  like  —  and  the  openly 
avowed  Nihilists  of  London  or  Paris  — little 
idiots  who  talk  foolishly,  publicly,  freely  of  the 
most  secret  designs;  and  many  of  them  have 
confided  in  me;  but  I  can't  get  hold  of  anything 
solid  or  definite  about  the  creature  Brassoff. 
He's  in  England— that's  all  I  know,  for  letters 


■»ti  iif 


^h 


nMr^ 


iifci 


..-:; jdXi>' 


5*»J!«*f'T*'«.,  *«W,« 


rft?*!^:''(K4f->-«'«/vS*%»--xi»>'W-«*«**ai<s.^ 


1', 

if 


!••': 


968 


UKOKK   SKALED   0KDRK8. 


RiTlvo  fronj  him,  und  imnwerH  como  within  ono 
I>f)Ht.  But  ?ii()ro  than  tluit,  not  ii  soul  I  uuMst 
can  toll  UMK  He  niUHt  live  underground,  like 
a  mole,  they  nay,  for  no  ono  (!vi<r  booh  Lim." 

(loneral  Solintoff  eyed  her  hiinl.  She  qimilod 
before  hiw  scirutiiiy.  "Yes,  lir'H  in  Kngliiud," 
the  hurtMiiKrrat  anKwered,  "thafw  cfrtiiin,  and 
it's  curiouM,  ohere  dame,  that  with  your  inti- 
mate op|K>rtunitiort  of  knowing  English  intorion* 
you  can't  track  him  down!  It  ought  to  ho  ])o.h- 
nible.  But  there,  that  cmmtry  huH  no  police. 
Its  i'tat  civil  is  the  most  hackward  in  Kuropo. 
One  thing  alone  wo  kiir)w  :  he  wtill  liven;  he  Ptill 
writes;  he  still  J)u11h  all  the  wires;  he  still 
directs  everything." 

"It's  generally  bolieved,"  fnadame  went  on, 
growing  less  nervous  as  sh(5  ])roceedod,  "that 
he's  one  ut  the  group  who  compile  these  dis- 
graceful and  slanderous  articles  against  Hussia 
in,  tha  Fort  nigh  f  J  ij  Review,  signed  E.  B.  Lanin. 
There's  no  such  person,  of  coui-se,  I^anin's  a 
mere  pseudonym;  and  it  covers,  like  charity,  a 
multitude  of  writers.  Vou  must  have  noticed 
the  articles,  no  doubt,  your  attenti'm  woidd  hn 
called  to  them  by  the  official  censors." 

General  SelistofE  n(x1ded,  and  drummed  with 
one  hand  on  the  desk  before  hitn.  "I've  eeon 
them,"  hp  made  answer.  "Most  abominable 
exposures.  We  blackod  them  all  cut  in  every 
copy  that  entered  the  country.  And  the  worst 
of  it  all  is,  every  word  of  it  was  true  too  The 
reptiles  wrote  with  perfect  knowledge,  and  with 
studied  coolness  and  moderation  of  tone.     I  sus- 


tDKKg. 


oomo  witliin  one 
ut  »v  Botil  I  inent 
uudorgronnd,  like 
(<r  8008  l.iin.' 
iml.  She  (iimilcil 
p'h  in  KriffJHutl," 
iHt'w  cortaiii,  unci 
fc  witlx  your  inti- 
:  EngliBh  interiors 
:  ought  to  1)0  ])0H- 
:y  htxH  no  police, 
kward  in  Europe*. 
Htill  liv(w;  ho  still 
B   wiroH;    ho   hHII 

ufidmno  wout  on, 
l)roct)eded,  "that 
oinpilo  these  dis- 
ss ajjuiiiHt  Russia 
^ned  E.  B.  Lanin. 
oni-sf),  liMnin'H  u 
m,  like  charity,  a 
mst  have  noticed 
tention  would  bo 
msors." 

d  drummed  with 
him.  "I've  eepn 
Most  abominable 
all  cut  in  every 
And  the  worst 
as  true  too  The 
fvledge,  and  with 
1  of  tone.     I  sus- 


UNDBK  HBALtCD  ORDBRS. 


»89 


I>ectod  BraMW)ff'8  hand  in  nioro  than  one  of  tho 
vilti  libols.  Tn«ro  wore  fiu;tH  in  them  that  could 
liardly  havu  como  from  niiy  on»)  dso  than  him. 
But  lhi8  iH  puro  guos8work.  Why  havon't  you 
J'ouu'J.  oiW    You  knaw  tho  tvlitorV" 

MadHnu)  Miri'ff  smilod  a  moHt  diplomatic 
Hiuilo. 

"VVoll,  yo8,"  sho  Haid.  "I  know  him.  lUit 
not  from  A /m.  Oh,  impowail.lo!  No  use  trying 
thuro.  luoorruptiblo!  Incorruptible:"  And 
Hho  went  on  to  detail  at  full  length  all  tho 
iiou.ses  Hhe  had  visited,  all  the  inquiries  sho  had 
made,  all  the  wiles  she  had  used,  and  haw  fruit- 
leas,  after  all,  had  been  her  diligent  search  after 
Uuric  Brassoff. 

"Well,  but  those  children?"  the  general  asked 
after  a  whilo,  with  an  ugly  scowl  on  his  face. 
"Those  children  I  asked  you  to  track  down,  you 
remember?  My  unworthy  brother's  son  and 
daughter?  How  have  yon  done  in  the  sojwoh 
for  them?"  ', 

.  "Equally  vain,"  madamo  answered.  "Well 
hidden  away  from  sight.  Not  a  trace  to  be 
found  of  them  anywhere  in  England." 

General  Selistoflf  leaned  back  in  his  swinging 
chair,  p."ikered  his  brows,  and  looked  stern  at 
her.  "But  there  is  in  Russia,"  he  said,  cross- 
ing his  arms,  with  an  air  of  savage  triumph. 
"Anil  that's  what  I  sent  for  you  all  the  way  to 
Petersburg  for." 

Madamo's  heart  sank  within  her  in  an  agony 
of  terror.  "What  on  earth  could  this  forbode? 
Had  he  tracked  them  himself?    Must  she  be 


aj&ifi''.  f'-l^. 


:    4< 


^m 


■m 


? 


■/■if: 


.  :vs^is^Sir;*^"*fath*.'iia?.*-''is^Vv^'''ierv"B*t**;^iw#^^ 


290 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


driven  after  all  into  aiding  him  to  hunt  down 
Owen  HJid  Saciui?  , 

For  even  if  Owen  was  a  traitor  t:^  the  Cause,  he 
wasRuric  Brassoff's  friend ;  andastoSacha,  Olga 
Mireff  had  Icarnetl  by  now  to  love  lior  dearly. 

The  general  turned  to  a  pigeon-hole  in  the 
desk  by  his  side  and  drew  out  a  bundle  of  pa- 
pers, neatly  bound  and  docketed.  "See  here," 
he  began  slowly.  "We  arrested  last  week  in  a 
suspected  house  at  Kieff,  one  Basil  Ossiusky,  a 
chief  of  the  propaganda  among  the  students  oi 
the  university.  "We  hatl  known  him  for  long  as 
a  most  doubtful  character.  In  his  papers  we 
fonnd — a  letter  from  Ixindon,  in  cipher  as  usual, 
which  I'll  trouble  you  to  look  at.  You  will  note 
at  once — aa  you  know  the  man's  signature — iVn 
in  Ruric  Brasaoff's  handwriting." 

Madame  took  tbc  inculpated  document,  •  and 
with  difficulty  avoided  a  gasp  of-  surprise — fc^r 
she* read  it  at  a  glance;  and  it  would  have  been 
death  to  her,  or  wliat  was  worse  than  death,  de- 
tection, if  she  had  let  Alexis  Selistoff  see  she 
could  read  at  sight  the  Nihilist  cipher. 

The  general  fished  out  a  few  m(5re  letters  from 
luB  desk  in  the  same  well  known  hard.  "Now, 
the  point  of  all  these,"  he  said,  fingering  them 
lovinglj^  "is  simply  this.  They'sliow — wliat  I 
could  hardly  have  otherwise  believed — that  it's 
that  incarnate  devil,  Brassoff  liimKelf,  who  has 
taken  charge  of  my  own  brother's  son  svA 
daughter,  these  degenerate  Selistoffs.  They 
further  show  that  he's  training  that  young 
friend,  in  England  or  elsevrhere,  for  some  dia- 


ORDSRS.   i    ;  ^  V 

him  to  hunt  down 

itor  t  J  tho  Cause,  he 
nd  as  to  Sacha,  Olga 
)  love  iier  dearly. 

pigeon-hole  in  the 
out  a  bundle  of  pa- 
:eted.  "See  here," 
isted  last  week  in  a 
e  Basil  OsHiusky,  a 
oug  the  students  of 
»wu  him  for  long  as 

In  his  pai)ers  wo 
,  in  cipher  as  usual, 

at.  You  will  note 
m's  signature — it'n 
ing."  -  ,  - 
ted  document,  •  and 
sp  of.  surprise — h,v 
it  would  have  been 
Tso  than  death,  de- 
is  Selistoff  see  she 
sfc  cipher. 

V  more  letters  from 
)wn  hand.  "Now, 
lid,  fingering  tliem 
'hey*sl)ow — Avliat  I 
believed — that  it's 
:  himself,  who  has 
brother's   son   8i;d 

Selistoffs.      They 
ining    that    young   , 
lere,  for  some  dia- 


tf.-.wii■^la^^a^K^.j^l^^^^^8l^-li>;m^g,^■^!awW■lil^«'■y^'''  ;"'"B^1it.  mlWBaWWipgj|M| 


i 


UNDKR   SEAbEb   ORDERS. 


291 


bolical  sclienie,  not  fully  disclosed,  against  the 
life  and  throne  of  our  beloved  omperor.  Tliey 
show  that  he  has  long  drawn  upon  his  ignorant 
cr  veuoniouH  fellow-conspirators  in  Russia  for 
funds  to  carry  out  this  abominable  project. 
They  show  that  the  scheme  of  the  pro[)os6d 
crime  was  known  in  full  detail  to  no  more  than 
four  persons;  liuric  Brassoft"  himself,  Basil  Os- 
siusky,  and  two  others,  unnamed,  who  are  indi- 
cated, like  the  rest  of  the  crew,  by  numbers  only. 
But  the  devil  of  it  all  is,  we've  got  tho  general 
idea  of  the  scheme  alone ;  for  the  assumed  namo 
and  present  address  of  young  Selistoff,  upon 
which  all  depends,  was  separately  inclosed  in  a 
sealed  envelope,  not  to  be  opened  on  any  account 
except  on  the  occurrence  of  a  certain  contin- 
gency; and  this  envelope,  unfortunately,  the 
man  has  managed  to  conceal,  or  indeed,  as  we 
incline  to  believe,  he  has  actually  swallowed  it." 
Madame  Mireff  breathed  hard.  "And  what 
was  that  contingency?"  she  asked,  in  almost 
tremulous  trepidation. 

"Why,  it  was  to  be  opened  in  c  ise  the  young 
criminal,  Sergius  Selictoff,  after  having  been 
trained  for  the  purpose  on  Nihilist  money  and 
inspired  to  the  utmost  by  Nihilist  friends,  should 
suffer  in  the  end  f/om  qualms  of  conscience — 
shoujd  refuse  at  the  last  moment  to  carry  out  the 
terms  of  his  infamous  bargain.  Supposing  that 
contingency  to  occur,  it  became  the  s-vorn  duty 
<  f  the  three  confidants  of  Ruric  Brassoff's  secret, 
to  break  the  sealed  envelopes,  and  disclose  Ser- 
gius Selistoff 's  assumed  name  and  identity.-   And 


-^-tlnE**>   *?.-S 


¥ 


291 


UNDISR  SEALBD  ORDERS. 


they  were  further  boimd  by  a  soh^mu  oath,  all 
three  of  them  alike,  with  Ruiuc  Brassoff  an  well. 
Hiul  the  whole  couHpiracy  at  their  backs,  to 
hound  down  that  youug  rascal  to  his  death,  by 
fire,  water,  or  dynamite,  i\nd  never  t.>  rest  for  ii 
moment  till  tht»y  ur  he  were  ilead,  in  the  effort 
to  punigh  him  for  his  broach  of  discipline.'" 

Miidame  MirefF's  blood  ran  cold.  "1  nee, 
she  said  faintly.  "They're  dreadful  people,  those 
Nihilists.  No  faith,  no  houur!  The  sort  of 
things  they  do  really  frighten  ard  appal  one." 

General  Selistoff  leaned  back,  and  twirled  his 
gray  mustache  with  those  bronzed  fingers  once 
more.  As  a  military  martinet,  he  almost  sym- 
pathized hinrtself  v/ith  this  blootltliirsty  regula- 
tion. "Well,  in  politics,"  he  said  slowly,  "we 
can  none  of  us  afford  to  be  over  particular  about 
the  choice  of  our  means.  Politics,  as  I've  often 
said,  have  a  morality  all  their  own.  1  don't 
blanie  these  people  for  trying  to  enforce  order  in 
their  own  ranks.  It's  juet  what  we  do  our- 
selves. ...  I  shan't  mind  though,  if  only  we  can 
catch  this  young  Sergius  Selistoff .  .  .  .  As  a  Rus- 
sian subject,  we  ought  to  be  able  to  get  hold  of  him 
somehow.  Extradition,  no  doubt,  on  a  charge  of 
common  conspiracy,  would  succeed  in  doing  it. 
It's  a  very  good  clew.  We  must  "follow  it  up 
incessantly."  ^>     ■ 


,f;,<^%. 


BR8. 


UNBEB  SEALED   ORDERS. 


998 


solomu  oath,  all 
Brassoff  as  well, 
their  backs,  to 
to  his  death,  l>y 
ver  to  rest  for  a 
ad,  in  the  effort 
liacipline.'' 

cold.  "I  Hee, 
fill  people,  these 
■I  The  sort  of 
irid  appal  one." 

and  twirled  his 
ised  fingers  once 
he  almost  sym- 
Klthirsty  regula- 
aid  slowly,  "we 
particidar  abaut 
C8,  as  I've  often 

own.  I  don't 
enforce  order  in 
lat  we  do  oiir- 
1,  if  only  we  can 
.  .  .  .  As  a  Rus- 
)  get  hold  of  him 
fc,  on  a  charge  of 
Jed  in  doing  it. 
st  "follow  it  11 J 


^■ijii. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 


AND    AFTER? 


In  England,  meanwhile,  Mr.  Hayward  gi-ew 
slowly  better.  In  spite  of  the  great  weight  on 
his  mind — a  weight  of  despair  and  of  donbt  for 
tlu  future  which  he  didn't  attempt  to  conceal — 
his  health  improved  by  degrees  under  Sacha's 
and  lone's  careful  mirsing.  Blackbird,  indeed, 
sometimes  soothed  him  with  congenial  pessimism ; 
there  were  no  fresh  green  laurel-leaves  now  for 
her  to  pursue  her  chemical  investigations  upon; 
so  the  poor  child  turned  her  energies  (such  as 
tliey  were)  instead  to  the  equally  congenial  task 
of  suggesting  to  Mr.  Haysvard  the  immense  ad- 
vantages of  annihilation  over  continued  existenca 

"If  only  you  could  die,"  she  said  to  l.im  more 
than  once,  "how  happj-  you  would  l)e !  And  how 
happy  I  would  he,  if  only  I  could  go  witli  you." 

Notwithstanding  these  gloomy  vaticinations, 
hawever,  Mr.  Hayward,  strange  to  say,  get  grad- 
ually better;  he  was  even  carried  out  into  the 
drawing-room,  where  Blackbird  played  and 
sang  to  him  sweet  songs  of  despair,  and  where 
Trevor  Gardener  and  Henley  Stokes  were  in 
time  permitted  to  pay  their  respecta  to  the  mys- 
t^ous  stranger.     Day  by  day  his  strength  re- 


ftg  T\'v  ■*" 

■       1 


.■iate* 


•^••'ti,.     J   .J-tN»-«5     4?isV.r.i'»ij!i-»ia--».».^M»i-*i«> 


W\ 


894 


UNDER  SEALICO   OBDEB8. 


^t  «' 


!•'  >' 


turned,  thoii{fh  his  cheeks  wjre  now  pale  and 
liis  eyos  horribly  sunken,  h  was  clear  the  dis- 
appointment had  shaken  the  foundations  of  tlio 
man's  very  being,  both  bodily  and  spiritual. 
His  aim  in  life  was  gone.  He  had  nothing  to 
do  now  but  brood  over  his  lost  hopes— aud  face 
the  problem  of  the  future  for  Owen  Caza'ot. 

Uow  serious  that  problem  was  he  alone  had 
any  cjnception.  He  had  woven  a  cunning  plot 
against  Owen's  life;  and  now  that  he  loved  him 
well,  and  fain  would  save  him,  why,  the  plot 
would  go  on  by  itself  iu  spite  of  him.  ^  . 

As  he  grew  stronger,  ho  seemed  to  lean  more 
au<J  more  every  day  for  support  on  lone  Drac- 
opoli.     "Dear  lone,"  he  called  her;  and  lone 
herself  now,  proud  that  her  native  charm  had 
conquered  no  much  initial  prejudice  and  such 
obvious  disincliuation,  was  ready  to  his  bock  and 
call  whenever  he  wanted  to  move  his  chair,  or  to 
draw  nearer  the  fire,  or  to  sit  iu  the  rare  winter 
sun,  or  to  lie  down  at  full  length  on  the  sofa  by 
the  mantel-piece.     She  could  read  to  him,  too,  m 
French  or  German ;  and  Mr.  Hayward,  who,  like 
most  other  Continentals,  cared  little  for  English 
books,  was  soothed  by  her  correct  accent  and  her 
easy,   fluent  utterance.     Often  he  grasped   her 
hand   fondly  as  she  led  him   into  his  room  at 
nights,  and  leaning  over  to  kiss  it  with  his  stately 
cld-fashionod  courtesy,  he  murmured  more  than 
once,  with  a  very  deep-drawn  sigh: 

"Ah,  lone,  if  ever  our  Owen  could  have  mar- 
ried at  all,  you're  just  the  sort  of  girl  I  should 
have  wished  him  to  marry.  ...     If  only  he'd 


l-ff^f  '^if- 


JS88. ' 

e  now  pale  and 
vas  cloar  tlio  dis- 
mndatioMs  of  tlio 
y  and  spintual. 

0  had  nothiug  to 
hopes— and  face 
'en  Caza'ut. 

la  lie  alone  had 

1  a  ciiuning  plot 
lat  he  loved  him 
I,  why,  the  plot 
him. 

ed  to  lean  more 
on  lone  Drac- 
her;  and  lono 
tive  charm  had 
Lidice  and  such 
to  his  beck  and 
»  his  chair,  or  to 
the  rare  winter 
on  the  sofa  by 
i  to  him,  too,  m 
ward,  who,  like 
ttle  for  English 
accent  and  her 
e  grasped   her 
to  his  room  at 
with  his  stately 
ired  more  than 
i: 

mid  have  mar- 

)f  girl  I  should 

If  only  he'd 


UNDBR  HEALED   ORDERS. 


995 


been  miie  and  his  own,  that  is  to  say,  if  oaiy 
he'd  been  mine  and  his  own — not  Russia's!" 

lone  noticed,  however,  that  he  always  spoke 
thus  in  the  past  tense,  as  of  set  purpose;  as  if 
Owen's  life  and  his  own  had  been  cut  short 
abruptly. 

At  last  he  was  convalescent — sis  much  as  ever 
he  could  hope  to  be,  he  said,  bitterly,  to  Tone;  for 
he  never  ex{>ected  to  be  xiappy  or  bright  again, 
now.  All  that  was  done  with,  all  that  was  .ut 
from  under  him.  But  he  was  well  enough,  any- 
how, to  move,  and  go  off  on  his  own  account. 
And  go  off  he  would,  alone ;  for  he  had  to  make 
new  plans,  as  things  stood  at  present — serious 
plans,  difficult  plans,  for  Owen's  future. 

And  Owen's  future,  indeed,  had  been  most 
seriously  upset;  for  the  appointment  had  come 
from  Lwd  Caistor,  as  Mathime  Mireff  antici- 
pated, and  Owen,  feeling  it  impossible  now  he 
should  ever  take  it  up,  had  promptly  replied  by 
refuging  it  and  withdrawing  his  name  from  the 
list  of  candidates  for  the  diplomatic  service.  An- 
other man  had  been  substituted  for  him,  so  that 
chance  was  gone  forever.  Indeed,  Owen  knew  ho 
must  now  earn  his  own  livelihood  somehow  in  a 
far  humbler  sphere;  luxuries  like  the  Foreign 
Office  posts  were  no  longer  for  him.  It  was  a 
question  now  of  eighty  pounds  a  yt.ar  and  a  hum- 
ble clerkship.  Sa  he  was  looking  about,  himself, 
vaguely,  for  something  to  do,  though  the  awful 
weight  of  the  despair  he  had  brought  on  his  vene- 
rated friend  bowed  him  down  to  the  very  ground 
with  pain  and  sorrow. 


♦  !■ 


fr.  *-, 


^  > 


■fttmiS^^-i  M--S/7K^,^^^^^?id&l^i^9f»T^<M'J^- 


■HP 


39G 


UNDEB  SBAUGD  ORDERS. 


His  plans  were  cut  short,  however,  by  a  mys- 
te  '  ,as  occurrence. 

Ono  morning,  suddenly,  as  they  sat  in  the 
kitchen  together  for  company,  Sacha  engaged  in 
sketching  Mr.  Hay  ward's  profile,  and  lone  bust- 
ling about  v/ith  the  chicken  for  dinner,  Mr.  Hay- 
ward  looked  up  as  with  an  inspiration  and  said, 
iu  a  very  quiot  tone : 

"I  feel  much  better  to-day.     I  think,  this  after 
noon,  I  shall  go  off  to  the  country," 

Both  Sacha  and  lone  gave  a  quick  stai't  of 
astonishment. 

"To  the  country,  Mr.  Hay  ward!"  lone  cried. 
"Oh,  what  for,  you  dear  old  thing?  Just  at  the 
very  minute,  too,  we  were  beginning  to  think 
we  were  really  some  kind  of  use  and  comfort  to 

yonr  ,..,....,..,.,....... 

Mr.  Hayward  smiled  sadly.        •-  - 

"Perhaps  I'm  getting  too  fond  of  you  all," 
he  said,  with  a  faint  effort  at  lightness ;  but  it  was 
lightness  of  a  grave  and  very  pensive  sort ,  ' ' Per- 
haps I'm  beginning  to  regret  my  bachelorhood 
and  my  loneliness.  Perhaps  it  makes  me  think 
I've  done  wrong— for  my  own  happiness — to  have 
remained  celibate  as  I  did,  for  an  abstract  prin- 
ciple's sake,  instead  of  surrounding  myself  wilh 
friends — wife,  children,  family — and  bringing 
up  two  dear  daughters  like  you  and  Sacha." 
"No,  no,"  Sacha  said,  quietly,  with  that  deep 
Slavonic  enthusiasm  of  hers.  "You  chose  the 
better  part,  Mr,  Hayward,  and  it  'shall  not  be 
taken  away  from  you.  Though  your  plans  have 
failed,  you  have  at  least  the  glory  and  the  rec- 


■ifii  V  <iiy*^: 


:ks. 

jv^er,  by  a  mys- 

bey  sat  in  the 
cha  engaged  in 
and  loue  bust- 
nner,  Mr.  Hay- 
ition  and  waid, 

link,  this  after 

quick  start  of 

!"  lone  cried. 
f?  Juat  at  the 
iniug  to  think 
md  comfort  to 


1  of  you  all," 
less ;  but  it  was 
vesori.  "Per- 
7  bachelorhood 
lakes  me  tbiuk 
)ines3 — to  have 

abstract  prin- 
g  myself  with 
-anci    bringing 

and  Sacha." 
(vith  that  deep 
rou  chose  the 
1  'shall  not  be 
)ur  plans  have 
y  and  the  rec- 


17I7DKR   SBAT.ED   ORDRRS. 


J97 


ompen^  of  knowing  you  have  livetl  and  suffered 
for  them."  •  •• 

lone  felt  iu  her  heart  she  couldn't  have  spoken 
like  that;  but  she  did  what  she  could.  She  took 
the  unhfippy  man's  hand  in  her  own  and  stroked 
it  tenderly  as  she  said,  with  almost  filial  affec- 
tion : 

"But  you  won't  go  away  from  ua  so  suddenly 
or  so  soon,  dear  Mr.  Haywatd!"    • 

Mr.  Hay  ward  laid  one  caressing  palm  on  the 
crisp  chestnut  curls.  Olga  Mireff  would  have 
given  her  right  hand  for  that  fatherly  caress. 

"Yes,  my  child,"  he  said,  softly,  in  a  tone  of 
infinite  regret.  "I've  many  things  to  arrange. 
I  must  think  out  a  new  life  for  myself  .  .  .  and 
Owen." 

"Why  not  think  it  out  here?"  lone  asked, 
boldly.  K 

Mr.  Hay  ward  shook  his  head. 

"You  don't  understand  these  things,  dear 
daughterkin,"  he  said,  still  fondling  those  soft 
curls,  but  with  a  very  pained  look.  "Impossi- 
ble, impossibl').  I  must  go  down  into  the  coun- 
try for  a  while.  Rest — jxiace — chq,nge — ^leisure 
t  .  .  I  must  tear  mjl^self  away  from  you  all.  I 
ihust  put  space  between  us.  Here,  with  you  by 
my  side,  I  can't  make  up  my  mind  to  what  is, 
after  all,  inevitable. " 

■j   A   vague  foreboding    of    evil    seized    lone's 
soul. 

A  lump  rose  in  her  throat.  Till  that  moment 
she  had  supposed  all  was  really  over.  The  crisis 
was  past;    Owen  had  told  her  the  worst;  Mr. 


^'J-'  ;-JJ)rilCTWWPSHIP 


;  -y 


1 


.-*»»a«S*i'4Sa#«i»Ssfei«l»iS,rts«*^^^ 


208 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


v'-r- 


HHy  ward  had  had  hJg  bad  half-hour  by  himaelf, 
and  had  ha{)i)ily  outliveil  it,  They  might  begin 
to  think  by  thiH  time  they  had  turned  the  corner. 
They  might  begin  to  hope  at  hiHt  tor  a  prosporouB 
voyage  in  quieter  waters. 

But  now,  thin  mysterious  remark  of  Mr.  Hay. 
ward's  set  lone  trembling.  Profound  anxiety 
seized  her.  What  ou  earth  could  it  be  that  he 
couldn't  bring  himself  to  do  while  she  and  Sacha 
were  beside  himV  Was  sume  terrible  penalty  at- 
tac'lied,  then,  to  Owen's  defection?  Could  those 
Nihilists  mean— but  no!  that  dear,  gentle  old 
man  could  never  dream  of  such  wickedness !  He 
loved  Owen  so  much;  you  could  see  that  at  a 
glance.  He  was  disapjwiuted,  crushed,  broken, 
but  in  no  way  angry. 

Indeed,  lone  had  noticed  from  the  first  moment 
to  the  last,  since  he  came  to  the  flat,  Mr.  Hay- 
ward's  manner  to  Owen  had  been  tenderly  affec- 
tionate. No  father  could  have  spoken  with  more 
gentleness  and  love  to  an  erring  child ;  no  mother 
could  have  borne  a  cruel  disappoiriiment  more 
bravely  or  more  patiently.  ;    ■>:     4* 

That  very  afternoon,  however,  true  to  his  word, 
Mr.  Hay  ward  went  away  \tithout  further  warn- 
ing, lone  helped  him  pack  his  portmanteau. 
Ab  he  talked  to  her,  meanwhile,  the.  vague  pre- 
sentiment of  coming  evil  in  the  girl's  frightened 
soul  grew  deeper  and  deeper.  Gradually  it 
dawned  upon  her  that  their  troubles,  far  from 
being  finished,  were  hardly  half  way  through. 
Mr.  Hayward's  curious  reticence  struck  terror 
even  into  that  joyous  and  exuberant  nature. 


our  by  himself, 
i>y  might  begin 
•tied  the  coriior. 
:or  u  prosper uuu 

rk  of  Mr.  Huy. 
jfountl  anxiety 
lid  it  bo  thut  lie 
'  sho  and  Sachii 
iblo  penalty  at- 
?  Could  those 
Jar,  gentle  old 
ickedness !  He 
1  see  that  at  a 
■ushed,  broken, 

10  first  moment 
flat,  Mr.  Hay- 
tenderly  aflPec- 
)ken  with  more 
ild ;  no  mother 
jiniment  more 

ue  to  his  word, 

further  warn- 

portmanteau. 

the.  vague  pre- 

ri's  frightened 

Graduallj'-  it 

ibles,  far  from 

way  through. 

struck  terror 

)erant  nature. 


» {.m^  ifmum..  i  u» 


TTNDBR   HBALBD   r>RDERS. 


.iii«Miii'» 


aW) 


Where  would  he  8t>»yy  Well,  as  yet,  he  said, 
he  really  didn't  know.  Ho  was  giing  away 
somewheii)  —  in  the  country  -*■  indefinite.  He 
tnuHt  look  about  for  a  place  that  would  suit  his 
purptJHe.  What  purpose?  Ah,  so  far,  he  could 
hardly  say.  It  must  depend  upon  chance,  upon 
suggestion,  upon  circumstances.  But  when  his 
portmaiitoau  was  packed,  he  seized  lone's  hand 
in  a  sort  of  transport,  and  pressed  it  hard  between 
his  own. 

"My  child,"  ho  cried  in  a  broken  voice,  giv- 
ing way  all  at  once,  "oh,  my  child,  my  dear 
daughter,  I  thank  you  so  much  for  your  good- 
ness, your  sympathy.  You've  been  kind  to  a 
wounded  soul.  You've  been  tender  to  a  bruised 
reed.  Your  smile  has  been  sunshine  to  me  in 
the  wreck  of  my  life,  my  hopes,  my  day  dream. 
How  can  I  repay  you  thus?  It  goes  to  my  heart 
to  think  I  must  requite  you  so  cruelly!" 
•  The  lump  rose  in  lone's  throat  once  more. 
What  on  earth  could  he  moan  l>v  it? 

' '  Requite  me  ?  How  ?  Why  ? ' '  she  asked,  with 
a  terrible  sinking. 

Mr.  Hayward's  voice  quivered.  •     '      r 

"Never  mind,  dear  daughter,"  he  said;  and  he 
kissed  her  v/hite  forehead,  "I've  loved  Owen 
well,  and  you,  too,  very  dearly;  at  first  for 
Owen's  sake,  but  now  for  your  own  also,  and 
fo'  your  loving  kindnesF.  But  I  have  no  choice 
in  this  affair.  I'm. not  my  own  master.  Others 
aro  more  bound  to  it  than  even  I.  .  .  .  I'll  spare 
him  all  I  can.  .  .  .  I'll  try  to  make  it  easy  for 
him." 


1.4  S 


.m 


800 


1TNDBK   HBALED   ORDERS. 


In  some  dim,  despiiiring  way  lone  lialf  jfiiessed 
wluit  liti  meiiut. 

"Then  it's  uot  all  over  yet?"  hIio  uried,  draw- 
ing back  with  ii  look  of  horror. 

"All  over?"  the  NihiliHt  chief  answered,  in  a 
tone  of  the  utmost  despair.  "All  over,  niy  dear- 
est daughter!  Oh,  you  can't  moan  that!  Why, 
it's  only  beginning!" 

And  seizing  her  plump  face  between  his  two 
hands,  and  bonding  down  tj  kiss  her  lips  with 
one  fervent  kiss,  he  rushed  out  wildly  into  the 
hall,  and  downstairs  to  the  hansom,  not  even 
daring  to  say  good-by  to  Owen  and  Sacha. 

lone  burst  into  tears  and  hurried  back  to  het 
own  l>etlroom.  •  .►  ,.      i 


■•''■  ■'■•■"■  ■  •■  '■ 

:    %•,,       .i     -    .^    ;. 

.1         ■      .*  ■        ■    '  '•  ,i*'-  ,  ..  ,**!;•, 

.'••      •■    ' '  .     ■"■."-■■■' 

ii.   ;i;:    t'::   »  '  ,       .•';.  ?V^j,jr5 

•      .»    ,'  ^-^..  4.'  ■       -i    lA'. 

■-■':•  wf,•^•.  1-     -■  •-'■'•-   •■  ,y  Mif-ii' 

4    ^••'•■v-      t'"    '      ■ 

:■>          ■■>  \.   ■..   .'IT-  "-.Hi.  :"< 

'             V    ^'' ' 

•"  . .' ' . ' . ii- k-.  ,t')f y  -' ?tj!f #■■ 

-  >'   ' "  * 

.   ''/.^.'^V     •;    -:-::,  ';>H<<;V 

.       ■       ■■       >*     ••                         .A--**** 

«B^ 

^    .^•;.;'.  '4.-V/,.  -->*^:.. 

- 

s 

y^yf.-  ■■:y-pj;:/      :  ■ 

■  -^T^:^: :  -y-  ■^■;:yi^f-\ih»? 

.     u:vt-  .'',,^\.    ■ 

■'■'■■/^i-^Ul-.'     ,>>3',irf;,v 

-.K'^^ri'-  ^      ■■■■.'>.{^:^:'. 


me  half  {^ueHsed 

jhe  cried,  draw- 

answored,  in  a 
i  over,  tuy  dear- 
mthatl.    Why, 

•etween  his  two 
IB  her  lips  with 
wildly  into  the 
som,  not  even 
id  Sacha. 
led  back  to  her 


,  "•      ..      >*}!  I 


-        "      'fyif> 


VUDBB   HKAL.KD   ORDKRS. 


801 


'4  ^'•-  ?,  V. 


^■^.^-'■r     'v4,'';*i"'I,.T:-i^; 


CHAPTER   XXXII. 


^j 


GOOD-BY. 


.rj... 


Aftkr  Mr.  Hayward's  hnrrietl  departure,  a 
period  of  flatness  brooded  over  the  Hat.  The  old 
excitement  of  his  illness  was  over  for  the  mo- 
ment, and  the  new  excitement,  at  which  he  hiwl 
hinted  so  strangely  and  mysteriously  to  lono, 
hadn't  yet  come  on.  So  the  members  of  the 
phalanstery  mooued  listlessly  about  at  their  daily 
work:  Sacha  t)ainted  without  spirit;  Blackbird 
composed  without  inspiration;  lone  mixed  pud- 
dings without  a  touch  of  the  divine  afflatus  of 
heaven-born  cookery.  She  hardly  even  dared  to 
tell  Owen  himself  what  Mr.  Haywrird  had  said 
to  her.  She  locked  it  all  up,  terrified,  in  the  re- 
cesses of  her  own  bosom. 

Owen's  return  to  Moor  Hill,  too,  left  the  flat 
all  the  lonelier.  He  had  no  cause  to  remain  any 
longer  in  London  as  things  now  went;  he  didn't 
want  to  sponge  on  Sacha  and  the  girls — though, 
to  be  sure,  the  jilternative  was  sponging  on  Aunt 
Julia.  But  the  Red  Cottage  had  always  seemed 
to  him  so  much  of  a  home  that  he  felt  less  like 
an  intruder  thei'e  than  in  Saeha's  chambers.  So 
to  Moor  Hill  he  retired  for  the  present,  deeply 
engaged  in  thought  as  to  where  to  turn  and  how 


4,11-  ■•• 


302 


UNDER  8:'4LKD  OROKRS. 


to  look  alKxit  him  nt  thin  criHiu  for  an  honest 
livelihooil. 

Tlio  (litliculty,  iiulot'd,  whs  greivt  ami  preHsing. 
HoiiPHt  livolihoodH  aro  Hcarce  in  tliis  orovvilod 
mart  of  on TH.  And  Owon  had  roo»nv»  d  no  Hi)e- 
ciul  or  terlinical  trHinirif^.  }Iavin{{  no  uuivurHity 
doj^roo,  the  Hordid  Hhift  of  Bchot)IinaHturing — that 
last  rofnge  of  the  destitute — was  jrloHed  HKaiiiHt 
him.  He  waited  and  wondered  wliat  course  to 
purrtue.  To  say  the  truth,  the  diplomatic  Horvic(< 
is  HO  gentlemanly  and  ho  diHtingui.shed  a  pursuit 
that  pr(«|)aration  for  it  seemed  to  have  shut  all 
other  duors  against  him. 

He  hadn't  long  to  wait,  however.  On  the 
fourth  morning  after  his  return  to  Moor  Hill 
the  jxwt  brought  him  a  letter  in  a  well-kuowu 
handwriting.  Owen  tore  it  opt>n  with  impa- 
tience. His  respect  and  veneration  for  Mr.  Hay- 
ward  were  still  so  intense  that  he  read  his  guar- 
dian's letters  with  positive  revei-euco.  This  one 
contained  two  distinct  inclosures.  The  first  was 
a  formal  note,  with  nothing  compromising  iji  it 
of  any  sort,  dated  from  a  little  village  up  the 
river  beyond  Oxford,  and  inviting  Owen  to  run 
flown  there  for  a  week's  rest  and  a  little  boating. 
(Strange  season  for  boating,  Owen  thought  to 
himself,  parenthetically.)  They  could  talk  over 
the  subject  of  his  future  together,  the  letter  said, 
not  unkindly,  after  the  change  of  plans  necessi- 
tated by  his  determination  not  on  any  terma  to 
accept  the  Vienna  appointment.    \  ,  ..:.U7 .'.»,.. i. 

The  second  note,  marked  "Strictly  Private," 
was  of  a  very  different  tenor: 


•  "^'"'■^W*!' 


»  fur  an  honent 

it  iiiul  preHsing. 
1  this  crowded 
icoivtd  no  h\)q- 
ig  tio  univorBity 
lUintwriuf^ — timt 

i  cloHod  Hf^llillHt 

wlmt  courno  to 
iloinatic  Horvico 
lished  a  jtursuit 

0  huve  uhut  all 

ever.     On   tho 
to  Moor  Hill 

1  11  well-known 
Ml  with  impa- 
in  for  Mr.  Hay- 
read  his  guar- 
uco.     This  one 

The  first  was 
promising  in  it 
village  up  the 
J  Owen  to  run 
.  little  hoating. 
en  thought  to 
lould  talk  over 
the  letter  said, 
plans  necessi- 
1  any  terms  to 

ctly  Private," 


-«s»V  -I'sirf^SJVt 


uNHRR  UnAXMD  ORniCRfl. 


ms 


"My  dkak  ( )WR\— Both  aH  your  gimnlian  and 
iis  your  (Miii'f,  I  ank  you — nay,  I  or(lt?r  you — to 
(.•ome  down  here  ,it  onve  to  the  IwlgiiigH  [  am 
Htaying  in.  I  don't  attempt  to  ooni'OHl  from  yiu 
tho  gravity  of  the  circunistanccH.  This  criHiR  ih 
,1  serious  ono.  Kurtlipr  particnlarsyou  will  le;irn 
from  me  immediately  on  your  arrival.  Mtum- 
while,  show  the  prenent  letter  to  Tii)l)ody  on  any 
iiccianit;  al)Ove  all,  nottolone.  Leave  the  other 
one,  which  accompanieH  it,  and  which  is  wine  hh 
a  l)lind,  o|H>iily  di^playtxl  on  your  study  table. 
But  1)1  ing  this  witli  you,  and  return  it  to  me 
here.  I  will  then  destroy  it  niyHelf,  in  order 
that  I  may  make  sur»'  it  has  b«H»ti  really  got  rid 
of.  (/ome  without  fail  by  to-morrow  evening ;  and 
say  nothing  eitlier  to  Miss  Cazalet,  Sarha,  lone 
or  Blackbird  about  this  matter.  You  may  tell 
your  aunt  casuHlly,  if  y.ui  like,  you're  coming 
down  here  to  me;  bnt  I  advise  yon  not  to  go  near 
Victoria  Street  in  the  present  juncttiro.  My  hoy  I 
my  boy!  I  woulilhavo  spared  you  if  I  could:  but 
I  eun't,  oh,  T  can't;  I'm  utterly  powerless. 

"In  profound  distress, 

"Your  ever  affectionate  and  heartbroken 
Gnardian,         Lambkrt  Hayward." 

Owen  turned  tho  letter  over  with  a  dismal  fore- 
boding of  evil.  He  knew  no  small  misfortune 
could  make  Mr.  Hayward  write  with  s6  much 
gravity  as  that.  Some  terrible  necessity  must 
be  spurring  him  in.  Still,  Owen's  sense  of  dis- 
cipline and  obedience  was  as  implicit  as  ever— 
or  nearly  ds  implicit.     Without  a  moment's  de- 


Jl__    iJKi^AJ^ii&'i. 


y. 


%• 


I       i 


.,1;  1  i '. 
H  'I  ; 


■mi'^ 


w 


Ik' 


^r 


u 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDErIS. 

lay,  ho  handed  Aunt  Julia  the  letter  intended  for 
the  public  eye. 

"I  must  go  down  to  him,  of  course,"  ho  said, 
suppressing  his  alarm.  "He's  immensely  dis- 
appointed about  my  giving  up  Vienna— on  con 
scientious  grounds,  which  1  haven't  fully  ex- 
plained to  you— and  I  must  go  at  once  and  tiilk 
things  over  in  full  with  him.  Poor,  dear  Mr. 
Hay  ward !  He  looked  30  weak  and  ill  when  ho 
left  London  the  other  day  that  I  shall  be  glad 
to  get  down  with  him  and  see  if  he  wants  any 
further  nursing." 

Aunt  Julia  acquiescel.  That  phra.so,  "con- 
scientious grounds,"  hnd  a  mollifying  f  ffoct  upon 
her.  It  was  a  shibboleth,  inoleed,  which  Aunt 
Julia  understood,  and  which  apisealod  to  her  as 
an  outward  and  visible  sign  of  the  very  best 
principles. 

"You  should  cei tainly  go,  dear,"  she  said,  the 
unwonted  "dear"  being  extorted  from  her  in 
token  of  complete  approval.  "To  visit  the  poor 
man  in  his  sickness  —  esi^ecially  after  all  his 
marked  kindness  to  you  in  the  past— is  a  Chris- 
tian duty." 

Owen  rose  from  the  breakfast- table  as  soon  as 
he  was  finished  and  packed  his  portmanteau.  It 
■was  a  liltle  difficult  to  do,  for  Jiis  arm  was 
sprained— he  hiid  hurt  it  badly  two  days  before 
in  one  of  his  athletic  bouts ;  but  he  went  through 
with  the  task  manfully.  Then  he  started  up  to 
town  by  an  early  train;  though  he  didn't  mean  to 
Teach  Oxfordshire  till  the  winter  evening. 

His  sense  of  discipline,  I  said,  was  almost,  but 


-rti 


RDERS. 

>  letter  intended  for 

)f  course,"  ho  said, 

a's  imnieiisel}'  dis- 

p  Vienna — on  con- 

Imven't  fully  ex- 

0  at  onco  and  tiilk 
.  Poor,  dear  Mr. 
ik  and  ill  when  he 
lat  I  shall  be  glad 
lee  if  he  wants  any 

hat  phrase,  "con- 
lifying  t  ffoct  upon 
icleed,  which  Aunt 
appealed  to  her  as 
of  the  very  best 

ear,"  she  said,  the 
irted  from  her  in 
"To  visit  the  poor 
ally  after  all  his 
»  past— is  a  Chris- 

st-table  as  soon  as 

1  portmanteau.  It 
for  ijis  arm  wao 
y  two  days  before 
t  he  went  through 
1  he  started  up  to 
he  didn't  mean  to 
3r  evening. 

1,  was  almost,  but 


I 


,//.,. 


A^iv 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


306 


not  quite,  as  implicit  ps  ever;  for  when  he  got 
to  Victoria  he  didn't  drive  straight  across  town 
to  Paddinglon,  as  one  might  natur.illj'^  have  ex- 
pected ;  ho  put  his  portmanteau  in  the  doak-ro-m 
instoad,  and  walked  v/^ith  a  burning  heart  down 
the  street  to  Sacha'r,  That  was  against  orders, 
to  be  sure;  but  the  crisis  was  so  grave!  Instinc- 
tivelj^  Owen  felt  lie  might  never  again  see  lone 
in  this  world,  and  he  couldn't  go  to  his  grave,  if 
his  grave  it  must  be,  without  saying  good-by 
to  her. 

Even  so,  however,  he  was  faithful  in  essentials 
to  Mr.  Haywatd.  He  saw  lone  in  the  drawing- 
room  for  tan  minutes  alone  hef (.>re  he  left  the  flat ; 
but  he  never  told  her  a  word  of  where  he  was  go- 
ing or  what  Mr.  Hay  ward  had  written  to  him. 
He  merely  mentioned  offhand  in  a  very  careless 
tone  that  he  was  on  his  way  down  to  Oxford- 
shir-^,  to  stop  with  Mr.  Hayward  and  talk  things 
over.  Something  must  be  done,  of  course,  about 
his  future  life.  Something  about  the  repayment 
of  all  the  money  spent  upon  him. 

So  Owen,  falt(>ring.  But  lone,  for  her  part, 
read  the  truth  more  deeply.  She  clung  about 
him  like  one  panic  strfcken,  and  held  him  tight 
and  wept  over  him.  She  knew  what  it  all  meant, 
she  was  sure,  though  but  very  vaguely.  Mr. 
Hay  ward's  own  hints  had  told  her  far  too 
much. 

"My  darling,"  she  cried  in  her  terror,  "my 
darling,  you  will  never  come  back  to  me!" 

Owen,  holding  his  wounded  right  aim  away 
from  her,  soothed  her  tenderly  with  his  left. 


->. 


•li 


\'i- 


:ft(eB«».V.;-i(^.«--^S^'t •-■*!«  -iv. 


^:;  Ktk  ^-.i^-i-9!Si(KSRrt^;«»ii^»-;i 


f 


306 


UNDER  SEALED  0RDER3. 


i 


"lone,"  he  said,  bending  low  to  her,  "if  I 
never  come  back  I  shall  have  known  at  least  the 
best  thing  on  this  earth— to  love  and  be  loved  by 
a  pure,  good  woman.  I  shan't  have  missed  in 
life  what  life  has  best  worth  giving." 
The  poor  girl  cluug  to  him  tighter  stlil. 
"Oh,  how  cruel!"  she  cried  through  her  tears. 
"Think  of  his  dragging  you  away  from  me  like 
this!  And  I  nursed  him  so  tenderly!  Why, 
Owen,  if  only  I'd  known  it,  I'd  have  wished 
him  dead  instead  a  thousand  times  over.  If  I'd 
imagined  he'd  be  so  wicked  I  almost  think  I 
could  have  poisoned  him." 

Owen  unwound  her  arms  gently. 
"Imust  gosaon,"  he  said;  "I  mustn't  stop; 
and,  lone,  for  my  sake,  you  won't  let  it  be  seen 
you  suspect  or  expect  anj^thiiigV" 

"I  can't  help  it!"  lone  exclaimed,  breaking 
down  once  mote  and  sobbing.  "How  can  I  help 
it,  darling?  How  can  I  help  it !  I  can 'Het  you 
go.  I  mjist  tell  the  police!  I  mi  it  rouse  all 
the  world !  I  must  come  after  you  .^nu  prevent 
him!" 

Shame  made  Owen's  face  red.  He  took  her 
hand  very  firmly. 

"My  child,"  he  said,  looking  reproachfully  at 
her,  like  a  Nihilist  that  he  was,  "I've  disobeyed 
orders  in  coming  to  see  you  at  all;  and  I  dis- 
obeyetl  them  because  I  said  to  myself :  'I  can't 
go  without  at  least  kissing  her  dear  lips  once 
more,  and  saying  gcxxi-by,  if  good-by  it  must 
be,  to  her.  And  I'll  risk  the  disobedience,  be- 
cause I  know  she's  brave,  and  she  won't  break 


IER3. 

(V  to   her,  "if   I 
lown  at  least  the 
and  be  loved  by- 
have  missed  in 
ing." 
bter  stlil. 
rough  her  tears, 
iy  from  me  like 
mderly !     Why, 
d  have  wished 
08  over.     If  I'd 
almost  think  I 


mustn't  ^op; 
't  let  it  be  seen 

imed,  breaking 
How  can  I  help 
I  can't  let  you 
ni:^t  rouse  all 
)ii  .<,na  prevent 

.     He  took  her 

jproachfuUy  at 
I've  disobeyed 
all ;  and  I  dis- 
rself:  'I  can't 
dear  lips  once 
od-by  it  must 
lobedience,  be- 
e  won't  break 


'ft 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


807 


down  or  stop  me  or  betray  me.  I'll  show  Mr, 
Hayward  a  woman's  love  doesn't  always  make 
one  lose  all  sense  of  discipline.  I'll  say  good- 
by  to  her  liko  a  man,  and  then  obey  my  orders.' 
.  .  .  lone,  are  you  going  to  make  me  regret  my 
decision?" 

lone  stood  up  and  faced  him.  Those  cheeks, 
once  80  ruddy,  were  pale  as  a  ghost.  But  she 
answered  him  firmly  none  the  loss. 

"No,  Owen,  no.  Go,  if  you  feel  you  must. 
But  my  darling,  my  darling,  if  j-ou  never  come 
back  I  shall  die  for  your  sake;  I  shall  kill  my- 
self and  follow  j'ou!" 

"One  thing  more,"  Owen  added.  "I  don't 
know  what  all  this  means.  I  go  under  sealed 
orders.  But  if  I  die — mind — not  a  word  of  sus- 
picion against  Mr.  Hayward!  I  couldn't  bear 
that!    Promise  me,  darling,  promise  me  I" 

lone's  voice  was  choked  with  tears,  but  as  well 
as  she  could  she  sobbed  out:  "I  promise  you!" 
Then  she  flung  herself  upon  his  neck  like  a  child 
on  its  mother's  and  cried  long  and-  silently. 


-■•I 


'^k 


808 


UXDER  BBALED  ORDKnS. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 


A    8TKANOE    SUGGESTION. 


It  was  almost  dusk  when  Owen  reached  Ben  • 
lade,  the  countrified  little  Oxfordshire  station 
on  the  Great  "Western  line  where  he  was  to  meet 
Mr,  Hayward.  He  had  telegraphed  on  by  what 
train  he  was  coming,  and  as  he  descended  from 
the  carriage,  somewhat  chilled  from  his  ride,  a 
familiar  hand  pressed  his  shoulder  kindly. 
"Hullo,  here  you  are!"  Mr.  Hayward  said, 
trying  to  grasp  his  right  hand.  "Well,  I'm 
glad  at  any  rate  you  came  on  at  once.  It's 
something  to  see  still,  my  boy,  you  can  at  least 
obey  orders!" 

He  spoke  gravely  but  affectionately,  with  a 
tender  ring  in  his  silvery  voice.  Owen  blushed 
for  pure  shame  as  he  thought  at  that  moment  of 
his  grass  disobedience  in  saying  good-by  to  lone. 
He  held  out  his  left  hand  somewhat  awkwardly 
in  return,  for  the  right  was  bandaged.  "Why, 
what's  this?"  Mr.  Hayward  asked,  looking 
down  at  it  in  surprise. 

And  Owen  answered,  not  without  a  pang  of 
regret  at  having  to  acknowledge  so  much  levity 
at  so  grave  a  moment,  "Well,  I  had  a  slight  ac- 
cident with  it  at  Moor  Hill  a  couple  of  days  ago. 


-  ■- .-  -.z^aSsBtP 


aJSfeJfa.,.*-^  -r^^_- 


DDKS. 


?TION. 

en  reached  Beu- 
fordshire  station 
e  he  was  to  meet 
phed  on  by  what 
5  descended  from 
from  his  ride,  a 
houlder  kindly. 
Hayward  said, 
d.  "Well,  I'm 
n  at  once.  It's 
you  can  at  least 

ionately,  with  a 
Owen  blushed 

that  moment  of 
good-by  to  lone, 
irhat  awkwardly 
daged.     "Why, 

asked,    looking 

bhout  a  pang  of 
)  so  much  levity 
had  a  slight  ac- 
ple  of  days  ago. 


■J"  '4<'>';  ■"".'.  t'" 


■■j<"'""«.' 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


309 


The  fact  is,  I  saw  a  gate  by  the  roadside  that 
wanted  vaulting  badly.  .  It  looked  as  good  as 
new,  though  a  trifle  mossgrown.  I  touched  it- 
just  so — and  the  minute  it  felt  my  weight,  hie, 
presto !  every  bar  of  it  came  apart  like  magic, 
and  down  it  tumbled,  a  bundle  of  sticks,  with 
me  in  the  midst  of  them.  It  reminded  me  of  the 
Deacon's  one  horse  shay.  I  crushed  my  hand 
and  arm  a  bit,  just  trying  to  save  myself.  But 
that's  all.  It's  nothing.  It'll  bejight  in  a  day 
or  two!" 

Mr.  Haywaid  glanced  back  at  him  with  a 
strange  wistful  look  of  mingled  distress  and  ad- 
miration. He  surveyed  those  splendid  limlx,, 
that  vigorous  young  body,  that  eager,  ardent", 
face,  oh,  so  sadly,  so  regretfully.  "Why,  my 
boy,"  he  said,  with  a  bitter  smile,  "how  irre- 
pressible you  are!  How  uncrushable!  The 
health  and  strength  and  youth  in  you  will  come 
out  in  spite  of  everything!  What  could  ever 
have  made  me  mistake  such  a  lad  as  you  for  an 
instrument  we  could  mold  and  model  to  our  pat- 
tern? To  think  that  even  at  such  a  depressing 
moment  as  this  you  had  vitality  enough  left  in 
you  to  vault  the  first  Sve-barred  gate  you  came 
to!" 

"I  was  ashamed  of  it  myself,"  Owen  an- 
swered, penitently. 

Mr.  Hayward  eyed  him  again,  as  they  walked 
on  toward  the  lodgings,  a  small  boy  toiling  be- 
hind them,  panting  with  the  portmanteau.  "So 
much  life  and  energy!"  he  said  ruefully,  sur- 
veying his  ward  with  admiring  pity  from  head 


.■vf  .'/ij'-'^f  ■ 


^^■1: 


\hi 


810 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDER3. 


to  foot.  "So  much  forai*  and  beauty^  Sa  much 
vigor  and  impetus!  What  a  pity  it  must  be 
so!  .  .  .     But  there's  no  other  way  out  of  it." 

He  walked  along  in  silonce  a  few  yards  fur- 
ther. Then  he  began  vjuietly  once  more,  in  no 
unfriendly  tone,  "I'm  glad  you  cruHhed  your 
hand  though,  my  boy.  It  may  make  things 
easier  for  us." 

Owen  hadn't  the  faintest  idea  what  Mr.  Hay- 
ward  was  driving  at;  but  ho  walketl  on  by  his 
friend's  aido  without  another  word  till  they 
reached  the  lodgings.  Then  the  elder  man  led 
the  way  in  throtigh  the  leafless  garden,  pausing 
for  a  moment  by  the  gate  to  remark  upon  the 
cold  beauty  of  the  wintry  view  —the  long  lino  of 
pollard  willows  by  the  river  bank;  the  bare  elms 
just  beyond,  in  the  hedgerow  by  the  brook;  the 
slender  tvrigs  of  the  birches,  silhouetted  by  myr- 
iads against  the  twilight  sky.  "I've  had  a  shot 
or  two  at  them  with  the  camera,"  he  said,  "in 
spite  of  frost  and  snow.  In  fact,  I  haven't  let 
either  weather  or  my  accident  interfere  with  m}' 
ordinary  pursuits  in  any  way.  I've  been  out  on 
the  river  every  day  since  I  came.  Mr.  Wilcox, 
my  landlord  here,  keeps  a  canoe  and  a  dingy 
which  he  lets  out  for  hire.  I've  tried  them  both, 
and  I  find  it  really  a  most  enjoj-able  exercise 
these  frosty  mornings. "  '    j  <  ,  ;    ^ 

"Seems  to  take  his  mind  off,  poor  gentleman," 
Mrs.  Wilcox,  the  landlady,  said  to  Owen  confi- 
dentially, some  minutes  later,  as  she  ushered 
him  upstairs  to  his  bedroom  in  the  little  country 
inn,  half  tavern,  half  farmhouse,  overlooking  the 


J^^JS 


>ER3. 

sauty!  Sa  much 
pity  it  must  be 
way  out  of  it." 
a  few  yards  fur- 
anoe  more,  in  no 
>u  cruHhetl  your 
ly  make   things 

i  what  Mr.  Hay- 
balked  on  by  his 
word    till    they 
B  elder  man  led 
garden,  pausing 
remark  upon  the 
-the  long  lino  of 
k ;  the  bare  elms 
r  the  brook;  the 
ouetted  by  myr- 
'I've  had  a  shot 
,"  he  said,  "in 
et,  I  haven't  let 
terfere  with  m}' 
['ve  been  out  on 
».     Mr.  "Wilcox, 
16  and  a  dingy 
tried  them  both, 
joj'^able  exercise 

lor  gentleman," 
to  Owen  confi 
as  she  ushered 
le  little  country 
overlookiag  the 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


311 


river.  "I'm  glad  you've  come,  sir,  for  he's  bad- 
ly in  want  o'  summat  to  interest  him  and  amuse 
him.  He's  a-  real  nice  gentleman,  that's  just 
what  he  is,  and  kindness  itself  to  the  children, 
and  so  thoughtful  and  that  too:  'Mrs.  Wlicox,' 
says  he,  when  ho  come  fust,  'anythink  '11  do  for 
me;  don't  let  me  disturb  your  own  arrangements 
in  any  way.'  But  he've  talked  a  sight  about 
you,  sir,  and  been  looking  forward  to  your  com- 
ing from  the  very  fust  moment  he  ever  arrived. 
'Ah,  this'll  do  nicely  for  my  young  friend,'  says 
lie,  when  he  looks  in  at  this  very  bedroom.  He's 
main  fond  o'  you,  sir;  one  can  see  that  with  half 
a  eye.  Got  neither  chick  nor  child  of  bis  own, 
nor  yet  a  wife  no  more,  he  tells  me;  so  it  ain't 
no  wonder  he  should  think  such  a  lot  of  you." 

For  Mr.  Hayward's  sake,  in  spite  of  his  de- 
pression, Owen  tried  that  evening  to  be  as  cheer- 
ful as  possible*  He  went  down  to  dinner  in  the 
stiff  little  parlor — the  usual  bare  room  of  the 
English  -country  inn,  with  coarse  colored  litho- 
graphs of  red-coated  hunters  in  full  cry  after  a 
prodigiously  brush-tailed  fox  for  its  sole  decora- 
tions— and  he  even  eat  what  he  could,  though 
the  mouthfuls  choked  lum.  Good  simple  Mrs. 
Wilcox  had  done  her  best  in  honor  of  'Mr.  Hay- 
ward's  young  gentleman,"  and  was  distressed  to 
see  her  spring  chicken  despised,  as  she  thought, 
and  her  mince  pies  unappreciated.  But  Owen 
couldn't  help  it.  Conversation  languished  till 
the  coffee  came  in.  Then  Mr.  Hayward  turned 
round,  drew  his  chair  to  the  fire,  and  began  talk- 
ing to  him,  in  Russian. 


I 


,  ^ 


■\l> 


W^S^«r?.«.j^»!a ^p.-*,'  ««■ 


312 


UNDER  BEAIiED  ORDERS. 


Owen  knew  ^trhat  that  meant  at  once.  It  was 
the  seal  of  secrecy.  He  bent  forward  to  listen. 
Mr.  Haywartl,  paler  still,  spoke  earnestly,  pas- 
sionately. 

"My  boy,  my  boy,"  he  cried,  in  a  Kudden  out- 
burst of  horror.  "You've  read  your  Bible  well. 
Do  you  remember  how  Abraham  offered  up 
Isaac?" 

Owen's  heart  stood  still  within  him.  Ho  knew 
it  must  come;  but  now  it  hful  come  at  last,  it 
was  very,  very  terrible.  Strong  and  bravo 
though  he  was,  he  was  young  and  vigorouH, 
and  in  youth,  to  die,  above  all  to  be  condemned 
to  death,  is  simply  heartrending.  And  then, 
there  was  lone.  But  he  would  never  flinch 
from  it.  True  Russian  that  he  was  in  filwr,  he 
would  meet  it,  he  determined,  with  Russian 
resignation  and  Russian  fatalism.  He  bent  his 
head  in  reply,  and  speaking  low  in  the  tongue 
of  his  ancestors,  made  answer  in  the  words  of 
Isaac,  "Behold,  my  father,  the  fire  and  the 
wood."     For  he  was  ready  for  the  sacrifice. 

Mr.  Hay  ward  rose  up  and  stood  pallid  before 
him.  Tears  gathered  in  his  eyes.  His  voice 
was  thick  and  broken.  "Owen,  Owen,  my 
son,"  he  cried,  very  low  but  sadly,  "I'd  give 
my  own  life  if  only  I  could  let  this  cup  pass 
from  you.  I've  turned  it  over  in  my  own  heart, 
a  hundred  times  over!  I've  wrestled  with  it 
and  struggled  against  it,  but  I  see  no  way  out 
of  it.  If  J  didn't  strike,  others  would;  for  you 
are  not  your  own;  you  are  bought  with  a  price; 
and  I  am  not  the  only  depositary  of  the  secret. 


I  tti|iar..i 


>ER3.  •:./.(■' 

at  once.  It  was 
)rward  to  listen. 
i  earnestly,  pas- 

in  a  Kudden  ont- 
your  Bible  well, 
lam    offered    up 

him.  Ho  knew 
come  at  last,  it 
)ng  and  bravo 
■  and  vigorous, 
»  be  condemned 
ig.  And  then, 
Id  never  flinch 
was  in  fiber,  he 
,  with  Russian 
n.  He  bent  his 
f  in  the  tongue 
in  the  words  of 
e  fire  and  the 
the  sacrifice, 
id  pallid  before 
res.  His  voice 
3n,  Owen,  my 
adly,  "I'd  give 
(t  this  cup  pass 
I  my  own  heart, 
restled  with  it 
see  no  way  out 
would ;  for  you 
ht  with  a  price ; 
y  of  the  secret. 


UKDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


Others  have  sharetl  with  me  for  twenty  years 
this  burden  and  this  hope.  Others  have  h(5ard 
from  time  to  time  all  the  chaucos  and  changes  of 
the  game  as  it  went.  Thoy  learned  only  the 
other  day  this  app<jintment  had  boon  oflpored  you, 
I  wrote  it  them  myself,  in  accordance  with  our 
arrang(ynont.  If  /  wore  to  draw  back  now,  they 
would  follow  up  my  work  for  me.  For  your 
sake,  for  lono's,  I've  devi.sed  and  perfected  a 
more  merciful  way.  There's  no  other  plan  pes  • 
sible  now  I've  decided  upon  this  one!" 

"VVhatoneis  that?"  Owen  tisked  trembling, 
but  still  submissive,  still  respectful. 

Mr,  Hayward  paused.  "I  can't  tell  you  yet," 
he  said,  wiping  the  tears  from  his  cheek  as  they 
rolled  slowly  down  without  any  pretense  at  con- 
cealment. "If  I  told  you,  I'd  give  way,  and 
there'd  be  a  scene  and  a  disclosure,  and  for  the 
sake  of  the  Cause — for  Sacha's  sake,  for  lone's, 
I  couldn't  bear  that.  It  would  be  too,  too  terrible. 
I  mean,  they'd  know  afterward,  it  was  no  acci- 
dent, no  casualty,  but*  a  prearranged  plan.  I 
don't  want  them  to  know  that.  Whatever  lone 
may  guess,  whatever  Sacha  may  guess,  what- 
ever Olga  Mireflf  may  guess,  I  want  the  world  at 
large  to  think  it  was  a  mere  unforeseen  chance.  . .  . 
On  that  account,  I  was  glad  your  poor  hand  had 
been  crushed.  With  a  man  of  your  physique,  it 
makes  an  accident  like  this  ...  a  little  less  im- 
probable." 

"Why,  what  am  I  to  do?"  Owen  asked,  gasp- 
ing hard.  For  lone's  sake,  he  could  have  wished 
it  had  been  otherwise. 


■«jiflS5«.i*a*^ti<>5'.r*»ir'W,Siflii,-^5i,»'-i^^ 


I.. 


fe-^ 


814 


UNDER   RRALBD   ORDBUft. 


"Nothing,"  Mr.  Haywiird  jvnHvverod,  controll- 
ing his  voice  with  difficulty.  "Nothing,  noth- 
ing, nothing.  Only  conio  out  with  me  to-mor- 
row morning.  Ictin'tiloHcril)oit.  CeHchonen-ln 
.se  font,  inaiH  ne  ae  diaent  pa.f.  Ami  the  less 
you  know  hoforohtind  in  any  way,  tho  better.  / 
will  arningo  tho  roat.  U'h  more  merciful  to.  .  .  . 
My  boy,  my  hoy,  I  do  it  ull  to  spare  you!" 

Ho  dropj)ed  into  a  cbair,  his  bands  chisped  Iw- 
tween  his  knees,  the  very  picture  of  misery.  For 
half  an  hour  moro  thoy  sat  moodily  silent.  When 
Mrs.  Wilcox  camo  in  from  time  to  time,  indeed, 
Mr.  Hay  ward  rjusod  himself  for  tlie  moment 
with  an  evident  effort.  He  talketl  as  well  as  ho 
was  able  in  a  forced  t;)ne  of  cheerfulness  about 
the  nothings  of  the  day— peiple  they  knew  in 
common,  his  latest  phofcogpaphs,  the  morning's 
news,  the  local  surroundings  of  Beulade.  He'd 
taken  some  good  negatives  of  those  frost-bespan- 
gled treod.  But  as  soon  as  tli((  landlady  went 
out  again,  they  relapsed  with  one  accord  into 
the  same  listless  attitudes  as  before.  Owen  sat 
gloomily  and  looked  at  tho  fii'e.  Mr.  Hayward 
sat  gloomily  and  looked  at  Owen. 

At  last  bedtime  camo.  Mr.  Hayward  rose  un- 
easily, and  took  a  bedroom  candle.  Then  he 
turned  and  gazed  at  his  ward,  his  victim,  ruth- 
fuUy.  "Owen,"  he  said  in  a  solemn  voice, 
"You're  as  dear  to  mo  and  as  precious  as  if  you 
were  my  own  very  son.  I've  watched  and 
thought,  watched  and  thought,  watched  and 
thought,  night  by  Alight,  how  I  could  manage 
to  save  you  from  this  hateful  necessity.     I've 


DKUH.  r 

iHwerod,  control  1- 

"Nothing,  notli- 

with  me  to-mor- 

t.     (Jen  rh(ttien-I<i 

.1.     And  the  lesH 

iy,  the  better,      f 

merciful  to.  .  .  , 

iparo  you!" 

liands  chiaped  Imv 

i  of  misery.     For 

ily  siUmt.    When 

)  to  time,  indeed, 

for  the  moment 

ked  HB  well  as  he 

leerf  ulneHH  nbout 

le  they  knew  in 

4,  the  morniug'H 

Beulade.     He'd 

lose  frost-bespan- 

i)  landlady  went 

one  accord  into 

jfore.     Owen  sat 

Mr.  Hayward 

a. 

[ay  ward  rose  un- 
mdle.  Then  he 
hisr  victim,  ruth- 
i  solemn  voice, 
recious  as  if  you 
3  watched  and 
t,  watched  and 
[  could  manage 
necessity.     I'  ve 


UNDER  8EALRU  OKDRRH. 


3lfi 


B*,rugglod  and  wrostlcd  with  myw«if  hotwoen  the 
long  hIow  Jiourw  in  tho  ivvrly  inoriiing.  I've 
prayod  for  light.  But  no  light  has  rotiio  to  nic. 
U'h  torril)lo,  tarrible.  .  .  .  My  boy,  I'd  give  my 
lifo  for  you— K)h,  no  gladly,  s  )  willinglj-.  .  .  .  But 
my  life  Ih  nothing.  ...  To  think  how  I've  seen 
you  grow,  and  watched  your  progress  with 
pride,  tuul  tilhsl  my  hourt  with  the  jt)y  of  you! 
And  was  it  all  for  thiH?  ( )h,  Owen,  1  wish  to 
Go<J  I'd  lot  you  die  in  the  snow  that  dreadful 
day  at  Wilna!" 

Owen  stood  opposite  him,  candle  in  hand,  all 
softenetl  by  his  mute  look  of  uuspeukable  an- 
guish. "Mr.  Hayward,"  ho  answered  slowly, 
"I'll  die  willingly,  if  that's  all.  I  don't  mind 
dying.     It's  what  I  was  brought  up  for." 

Mr,  Hay  ward's  soul  weut  up  from  him  in  one 
deadly  groan.  "Dio!  Die!"  ho  said,  bitterly. 
"Why,  that's  nothing,  nothing.  I  could  have 
borne  to  soe  you  die,  if  it  hud  boun  for  martyred 
Russia !  A  mother  oven  can  boar  to  see  her  son 
die — a  soldier's  duath-^on  the  field  of  battle. 
But  to  die  like  this,  inglorious,  by  a  traitor's 
doom,  with  no  task  performed,  no  duty  fulfilled, 
to  escape  a  people's  curse  and  a  people's  ven- 
geance— it's  that  tliat  stings  me  to  the  core — it's 
that  that  fi-eezes  my  life-blood!" 

And  seizing  his  ward's  hand  very  remorsefully 
in  his  own,  he  shook  it  hard  twice,  and  went  up 
to  a  sleepless  night  in  his  own  cottage  bedroom. 


■'■'■f  ■ 


•»• 


•it 


;«t'i 


i ' .'. 


816 


I7NDRK  8KALRD  ORDERS. 


CHAPTKH  XXXIV. 


SBNTENCK    OF     DKATH. 


V 


All  that  night  long,  till  morning  dawned, 
Owen  never  ttlopt.  How  oouM  he,  indowl?  Ho 
WU8  a  condemned  criminal !  He  jmrfectly  un- 
derstood, now,  ho  wiiH  to  die  the  next  day.  Mr. 
Hay  ward  had  decreed  it  —  rHmorsetully,  self- 
reproachfully — but  still  decreed  it.  No  sentence 
of  any  regularly  constituted  court  could  have  had 
greater  validity  in  ( )wen  On'  t's  eyes  than  that 
man's  mere  word.     His  or  -ere,  "Come  out 

with  mo  to-morrow." 

"Come  out  with  mo  to-morrow !"  What  could 
that  phrase  moan,  Owon  woiidoredV  Was  it 
dagger,  or  dynamite,  or  revolver,  or  poison? 
And  why  had  Mr.  Hay  ward  brought  him  down 
by  himself  to  this  remote  place  to  kill  him? 
Here,  detection  wjih  certain;  to  pass  in  the 
crowd,  impossible.  Why  not,  then,*  in  London, 
where  escape  is  so  easy?  Why  here,  where  every 
stranger  became  at  once  by  his  mere  presence  a 
conspicuous  person?  Owon  turned  it  over  in  his 
own  mind,  but  foimd  no  answer  anywhere.  He 
didn't  even  know  to  what  manner  of  death  he 
was  condemned.     That  made  it  the  more  ter- 


a,<-v'^ 


[>BR8. 


IV. 


ATH 


orning  dawned, 
1m),  indood?  Ho 
lo  j)erfectly  un- 
I  next  day.  Mr. 
noreefully,  self- 
it.  No  senteuco 
t  t!ould  have  had 
's  eyes  than  that 
-ere,  "Come  out 

!"  What  could 
lored':'  Wjw  it 
ver,  or  poison  V 
ught  him  down 
CO  to  kill  him? 
to  pass  in  the 
leu*  in  London, 
jre.  where  every 
nere  presence  a 
ed  it  over  in  his 
anywhere.  He 
lor  of  death  he 
:  the  more  ter- 


UNDICR  HAALRD  ORDBK8. 


rihle.     He  knew  only  this  much :  he  must  die 
ti>-morr()W. 

And  loiieV  Of  lone  ho  couldn't  boar  to  think. 
Yet  here,  under  the  bodily  Hpoll  of  Mr.  Hay  ward's 
coinrnandinti  voice  and  Mr.  Hayward'H  compol- 
liiijif  eye,  ho  c:)uld  no  friore  dream  of  iliHolH«dience 
to  his  Chief  than  the  soldier  in  the  ranks  can 
dream  of  mutiny  l)eforo  the  very  face  of  tho 
General.  Even  Tone  herself  was  half  forgotten 
for  the  moment.  He  tlumght  most  now  of  the 
pain  and  distress  ho  was  causing  Mr.  Hayward 

Hour  after  hour  pivssed  by— the  clock  clanged 
them  in  turn— and  still  he  lay  awake,  and  tossed 
and  turned,  and  wondered.  Toward  moraing, 
however,  strange  to  say,  youth  and  strength  pre- 
vailed, and  he  dozed  off  into  u  deep  sleep,  as 
peaceful  and  undisturbed  as  th'  sleep  of  child- 
hood. 

At  eight,  he  woke  with  a  start,  rose  in  haste, 
much  ashamed  of  himself,  and  went  down  to 
breakfast.  It  was  the  last -he  would  ever  eat — 
for  he  must  die  t*M8  morning.  Mr.  Hayward 
was  there  before  him,  pale,  haggard,  unhappy. 
The  miserable  look  on  the  man's  face  struck  Owen 
dumb  with  pity.  More  even  than  for  himself  he 
felt  for  Mr.  Hayward.  He  gazed  hard  at  him 
for  a  minute  or  two  before  he  could  make  up  his 
mind  to  speak.  Then  he  sjiid  in  a  very  soft  and 
gentle  voice,  "I'm  afraid  you've  had  no  sleep. 
You  look  dreadfully  tried." 

Mr.  Hayward  turned  round  upon  him  with  all 
tho  fierceness  of  despnir.  "Sleep!"  he  echoed. 
♦'Sleep!    How  could  I  sleep  at  such  a  moment? 


i 


M 


'%&&t?m 


^>^W*l«Sl^-'#.*w-'■*S!^t■^v'T'me»-'■»^«e^ri■««■■-■^!V'■i^ 


'M        .  t-f/W^  f"*^"     ^JnO.""   3- 


tm 


!l 


B?    ' 


^Hi' 


m  ■■ 


818 


UNDER  SBAL.ED  ORDERS,  i 


Jg.: 


Owen,  I've  passed  twelve  hours  of  speechless 
agony.  I've  fought  more  devils  through  the 
night  th.'iu  ever  hell  turned  out.  Ru.s8iu  and 
the  Cause  have  trembled  and  tottered  like  a 
quicksand  beneath  my  feet.  My  faith  has  van- 
ished. .  .  ,  Owen,  my  boy,  my  boy,  I'd  give 
the  world  to  keep  you." 

Owen  stared  at  him,  cold  to  the  bone.  "I 
wish  it  could  have  been  otherwise,"  he  said 
slowly,  witli  bloodle.s8  lips.  "But  if  it's  needful 
I  must  die,  I  dia  willingly,  ungrudgingly." 

The  elder  man  rose,  crushed  a  piece  of  paper 
in  his  hand,  and  flung  it  into  the  fire  with  a  bit- 
ter gesture.  "Owen,"  he  cried  once  more,  "I'm 
ashamed  of  myself  for  saying  it.  I'm  going 
back  upon  the  faith  and  hope  of  a  lifetime  in 
saying  it.  I'm  a  devil  for  saying  it.  But, 
Owen,  if  all  Russia  in  one  jierson  knelt  tliere 
before  me  this  moment,  with  one  neck  to  strike, 
I  swear  to  God— oh,  it's  horrible!— I'd  lift  my 
sword  and  strike  her,  willingly  strike  her,  to 
save  you!" 

Owen  bent  his  head  meekly  as  if  to  receive  the 
blow.  "If  it  must  be,  it  must  be,"  he  answered 
in  all  reverence,  all  humble  resignation. 

Mr.  Hayward  sat  down  and  pretended  to  eat. 
He  broke  an  egg,  scooped  it  out,  and  fluu^'  the 
contents  in  the  fire.  He  drank  off  half  a  cup  of 
coffee,  that  choked  him  as  he  swallowed  it,  and 
then  thrust  his  bread  in  his  pocket,  unable  to  eat 
it.  The  very  drink  almost  burned  him,  like 
molten  metal.  His  face  was  livid  and  blue  with 
his  unspeakable  misery. 


'■'-r 


I 


ORDERS.*       '^ 

lours  of  speechless 
ievils  through  the 

out.  Russia  and 
.ud  tottered  like  a 

My  faiith  has  van- 
my  boy,   I'd  give 

to  the  bone.      "I 
thorwise,"  he  said 
"But  if  it's  needful 
ngrudgingly." 
3d  a  piece  of  paper 

the  fire  with  a  bit- 
id  once  more,  "I'm 
ig  it.  I'm  going 
pe  of  a  lifetime  in 

saying  it.  But, 
IJerson  knelt  tljere 
one  neck  to  strike, 
[•ribie!— I'dliftmy 
igly  strike  her,   to 

as  if  to  receive  the 
t  be,"  he  answered 
signation. 
i  pretended  to  eat. 
)ut,  and  fluu}.;  the 
If  off  half  a  cup  of 
swallowed  it,  and 
cket,  unable  to  eat 
burned  him,  like 
ividand  blue  with 


^     UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


819 


!• 


As  for  Owen,  he  eat  and  drank,  as  a  con- 
demned man  will  sometimes  do  on  the  morning 
of  his  execution,  just  to  keep  his  courage  up. 
That  ghastly  uncertainty  about  the  mode  of 
death  chosen  for  him  made  him  (juiver  with  ex- 
citement. It  was  so  terrible,  tao,  that  he  couldn't 
even  write  a  line  to  lone  to  tell  her  what  must 
happen.  He  eat  and  drank  in  solemn  silence, 
his  guardian  all  the  time  looking  on  at  him  and 
groaning. 

After  breakfast,  Mr.  Hayward  left  the  room 
for  a  minute,  and  Mi-s.  Wilcox  came  in  to  clear 
the  table.  "Poor  dear  gentleman,"  she  said 
compa,ssionately.  "He  don't  seem  no  better  at 
all  but  rather  a  bit  worse  if  anythink  this  morn- 
ing. I  was  in  hopes  when  you  come  down,  sir, 
it  might  'a  done  him  a  power  o*  good  to  have 
fresh  young  blood  about  the  house — as  one  may 
say — he's  that  dull  and  miserable.  But,  Lord, 
it  ain't  done  him  no  good  at  all,  as  I  can  see; 
he's  worse  this  morning  nor  ever  I've  known 
him — no  color  nor  nothink.  .  And  he  tossed  and" 
turned,  and  got  up  so  in  the  night,  and  walked 
about  his  room,  that  Wilcox,  he  couldn't  sleep 
for  lying  awake  and  listening  to  him.  He  says 
he  do  think  Mr.  Hayward  must  have  a  presenti- 
ment. .  .  .  A. id  well  he  may,  poor  dear  gentle- 
man, for  he  ain't  long  for  this  world,  that's  cer- 
tain. I  wish  he'd  take  some  o'  that  there  Cura- 
tive Extract  as  saved  my  sister's  lite  after  ten 
years  in  a  decline,  an'  her  every  bit  as  bad  in  her 
time  as  what  he  is." 

"I'm  afraid,"  Owen  said  gravely,  "H  wouldn't 


'K\v 


t 


I 


^nA 


320 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


S' 


ja 


do  him  much  gooil.  His  case  is  too  far  gone  for 
Curative  Extracts  now.  Nothing's  likely  to  save 
him.     He's  past  hope,  Mrs.  AVilcox." 

A  minute  or  two  later,  Mr.  Hayward  came 
down  again.  He  had  on  a  rough  pea-jacket  and 
a  flannel  boating-cap.  "This  is  how  I  go  attired 
to  take  my  walks  abroad  in  the  dingy,"  he  said, 
with  a  ghastly  attempt  at  some  pretense  of  levity. 
"Are  you  gamo  for  a  row,  Owen,  It's  chilly  but 
nice  and  clear  on  the  water  this  morning;  and  I 
find  nothing  warms  me  up  like  a  turn  on  the 
river." 

"All  right,"  Owen  answered,  endeavoring  to 
imitate  his  friend's  forced  cheerfulness.  "I'm 
not  very  fit,  myself,  with  my  hand  and  arm  like 
this;  but  it's  best  to  use  them,  after  all.  It  pre- 
vents stiffness." 

He  followed  Mr.  Hayward,  all  wondering,  to 
the  bank,  where  Wilcox,  the  landlord,  stood 
waiting  with  the  dingy  and  the  canoe,  armed 
with  a  long-handled  boat-hook.  Mr.  Hayward 
took  his  seat  in  the  bigger  of  the  two  boats,  and 
put  the  sculls  in  the  rowlocks.  "You'll  try  the 
canoe,  Owen,"  he  said.  "Mind  how  you  get  into 
her.  She's  an  unsteady  little  craft,  lop-sided  in 
a  high  wind.  Topples  over  in  a  minute  if  you 
cough  or  sneeze  or  wink  in  har."     .  i  ,, .,;. , 

Owen  jumped  lightly  in.  "Oh,  I'm  accus- 
tomed to  canoes,"  he  answered,  now  beginning 
to  catch  vague  glimpses  of  what  was  coming 
next.  "I  can  4o  just  what  I  like  in  them.  Stand 
up  in  them ;  lie  down  in  them ;  dance  a  hornpipe 
if  necessary.     I  never  upset.     They're  as  easy 


[)ER8. 

3  too  far  gone  for 
ig's  likely  to  save 
icox." 

Hay  ward  came 
;h  pea-jacket  aud 

I  how  I  go  attired 
dingy,"  he  said, 
retenso  of  levity. 
.  It's  chilly  but 
morning;  and  I 
e  a  turn  on  the 

,  endeavoring  to 
jrfulness.  "I'm 
.nd  and  arm  like 
fter  all.     It  pre- 

II  wondering,  to 
landlord,    stood 

e  canoe,  armed 
Mr.  Hay  ward 
>  two  boats,  and 
"You'll  try  the 
low  you  get  into 
aft,  lop-sided  in 
,  minute  if  you 

Oh,  I'm  accus- 
now  beginning 
at  was  coming 
in  them.  Stand 
ance  a  hornpipe 
^hey're  as  easy 


r 


Ibd... 


UNDER  SEALED   ORDERS. 


321 


as  A  B  C  when   once   you   know  the  ways  of 
them." 

He  took  the  paddle  in  his  maimed  right  hand, 
and  tried  a  stroke  or  two,  double-handed.  It 
hurt  his  wrist  a  good  deal,  but  he  pretended  to 
disregard  it.  Wilcox  gave  them  a  push  with 
the  long-handled  boat-hook  out  into  mid-stream, 
where  the  current  caught  them ;  and  they  glided 
away  merrily  down  river  toward  Oxford. 

The  Thames  was,  of  course,  deserted  at  that 
time  of  year.  Recent  frost  on  the  canals  had 
checked  even  the  barge  traffic.  Not  a  soul  stood 
about;  not  a  boat  was  on  the  river.  They  made 
their  way  alone  round  a  bend  of  the  stream,  be- 
tween silent  banks,  where  the  sedges  drooped 
over  the  brink,  heavily  weighted  with  icicles. 
Bare  pollard  willows  shut  them  in  to  the  right, 
with  beds  of  osiers  whistling  beyond  in  the  win- 
try breeze.  To  the  left  were  flooded  water-mead- 
ows. It  was  a  dreary  prospect.  All  was  cold 
and  dim  and  dreary  and  desolate.  At  last  Owen 
spoke.  "Shall  I  -  .  ever  come  back  again?"  he 
a&ked  in  a  tremulous  undertone. 

Mr.  Hay  ward's  voice  was  hardly  aud5b!*> 
through  choked  sobs.  "No,  my  bjy,"  he  an- 
swered with  an  effort.  "Or  only  to  the  church- 
yard." 

They  rowed  and  paddled  on  then  for  a  mile  jor 
two  in  silence.  It  was  a  lonely  reach  of  the 
stream.  No  houses  stood  in  sight,  and  even  the 
tow-path  by  the  side  lay  still  and  deserted.  Pres- 
ently, the  dingy,  which  led  the  way  by  so^ie 
twenty  yards,  turned  sharply  to  the  right  down 


i 

i 

1 


w 


m 


823 


UNDER  SEALED   ORDERS. 


J 


t 


I. 


a  still  lonelier  backwater.  It  was  a  fairly  broad 
channel,  used  to  turn  a  paper-mill ;  its  bank  was 
beset  by  tall  flags  and  the  dead  stums  of  withered 
willow-herb.  Owen  followed  in  the  canoe  with 
a  vague  presentiment  of  coming  ill.  At  the  end 
rose  a  sound  as  of  rushing  waters. 

Mr.  Hay  ward  spoke  just  once.  His  voice  was 
now  terribly  calm  and  stern ;  but  it  was  the  calm- 
ness of  despair,  the  sternness  of  the  inevitable. 
"There's  a  mill  by  the  main  stream  just  below," 
he  said,  in  au  inflexible  tone.  '  'This  backwater's 
the  leet,  over  youder's  the  overflow.  It  leads  to 
a  dam  on  the  loft;  and  beyond  it  I've  found  a 
very  dangerous  lasher." 

"I  see,"  Owen  answered  blindly,  paddling  for- 
ward once  more  in  tremulous  silence.  He  could 
feel  his  own  heart  beat.  He  knew  now  what 
was  coming. 

As  they  reached  the  cairn  expanse  at  the  top 
of  the  dam,  Owen  took  it  all  in  step  by  step,  un- 
bidden. The  water  rushed  deep  enough  over  the 
lasher  to  float  a  small  boat.  The  current  ran 
fierce,  and  could  engulf  a  man  down  in  a  canoe 
without  difficult}'.  Below  lay  a  deep  pool,  swirl- 
ing and  simmering  with  undercurrents.  In  its 
midst,  the  eddy  from  the  lasher  and  the  eddy 
from  the  flood-gates,  mingling  and  battling  as 
they  met,  made  a  perpetual  turmoil,  and  churned 
up  the  white  surface  into  petty  whirlpools  that 
could  suck  a  swimmer  down,  even  naked  and 
in  summer,  but  that  would  easily  idrown  him, 
clogged  with  clothes  and  boots,  in  icy  winter 
weather.     Mr.  Hayward  had  chosen  his  place 


•'"H^ 


(DEBS. 

vaa  a  fairly  broad 
lill ;  its  bank  was 
stems  of  withered 
iu  the  canoe  with 
r  ill.  At  the  end 
>rs. 

5.  His  voice  was 
t  it  was  the  calm- 
)£  the  inevitable, 
■earn  just  below," 
'This  backwater's 
flow.  It  leads  to 
1  it  I've  found  a 

ily,  paddling  for- 
lence.  He  could 
knew  now  what 

:panse  at  the  top 
step  by  step,  un- 
» enough  over  the 
The  current  ran 
down  in  a  canoe 
i  deep  pool,  swirl- 
currents.  In  its 
)r  and  the  eddy 
and  battling  as 
loil,  and  churned 
■  whirlpools  that 
even  naked  and 
sily  drown  him, 
8,  in  icy  winter 
shosen  his  place 


UNDKR  SEALED  ORDERS. 


833 


r 

I       of  execution  well.     It  was  a  very  natural  spot  for 
I       !in  accident  to  happen.     Owen  saw  it  at  a  glanoe. 
Boat  drawn  down  by  the  swirl ;  man  upset  and 
drowned  there. 

He  glanced  at  the  seething  eddies,  and  at  the 
board  by  the  side— "To  Bathers— Dangerou3." 
Then  he  scanned  hia  own  strong  limbs,  and 
turned  with  a  meaning  look  to  Mr.  Hayward.' 
"It's  lucky  the  water's  ice-cold,"  he  said  in  a 
calm  deep  voice,  growing  still  with  despair,  "and 
that  my  hand's  sj  mangled.  Otherwise,  I  don't 
think  I  could  possibly  drown  in  such  a  narrow 
space,  even  trying  to  do  it.  Those  whirlpools 
aren't  fierce  enough.  I  swim  too  well.  You 
see,'  it's  almost  impossible,  however  much  you 
may  wish  it,  not  to  struggle  and  strike  out  when 
you  feel  yourself  drowning.  The  water  gets  in 
your  throat,  and  you  kick  away  in  spite  of 
yourself.  Besides,  I'm  so  strong.  I  should 
flounder  out,  willy-nilly.  But  I'll  see  what 
I  can  manage.  I'll  do  my  best  to  restrain 
myself."     ,  -  ;  •■;:-*';^^     ',■   -•    --- 

"So  do,"  Mr.  Hayward  made  answer  in  the 
same  inexorable  tone,  as  of  offended  Russia.  He 
rowed  nearer  and  nearer  and  montioned  Owen  to 
pass  him.  ' ' Now— here !"  he  oried,  pointing  with 
one  finger  to  a  rush  of  green  water  in  the  very 
center  of  the  lasher  sliding  smooth  down  its 
rapid  slope  into  the  wild  thick  of  the  whirlpool. 

i"When  I  cry 'Off,'  let  go  your  paddle,  and— 
dovn  the  lasher  full-pelt !  Upset  boat  at  the  bot- 
tom, and  don't  dare  to  swim  a  stroke — hold  your 
hands  to  your  side.     Those  are  my  orderr '   fly 


i     t 


iV 


'  t 

i 


834 


UNDER  SEALED  OBDBRS. 


orders !  .  .  .  Oh,  heavens,  I  can't  say  the  word 
.  .  .  Owen,  Owen,  Owen." 

And  indeed,  as  Owen,  obeying  bis  gesture, 
moved  out  into  the  full  current  and  paused  with 
poised  paddle,  awaiting  the  fatal  signal,  -'Oflf," 
.  sudden  access  of  horror  and  awe  seemed  to  have 
seized  his  Chief,  who,  even  as  he  cried  his  name 
thrice,  let  the  oars  drop  unexpectedly,  clapped 
his  two  bauds  to  his  ears  as  women  and  children 
|;  \'  often  do  when  terrified,  and  sobbed  aloud  in  his 

agony  once  more,  "Oh,  Owen,  Owen,  Owen!" 

Then,  before  Owen  could  say  what  was  hap- 
pening, the  whole  spirit  of  the  scene  was  sud- 
denly changed,  as  if  by  magic.  A  terrible  awe 
came  over  him.  Th  -^  rush  of  the  water,  catch- 
ing the  heavy  dingy,  no  longer  held  back  by 
the  force  of  Mr.  Hay  ward's  arms,  hurried  it  for- 
ward like  lightning.  Down,  down,  it  clashed 
madly  over  the  inclined  plane  of  the  lasher.  At 
the  bo' torn,  a  rebellious  undertow  of  white  foam 
surged  ?easelessly  back,  as  if  in  anger,  on  tbd 
dark  g'/een  flow.  Arrived  at  that  point,  the 
dingy  capsized  like  a  helpless  hulk.  The  sculls 
disappeared  all  at  once  in  the  seething  gulf. 
The  boat  floated  oflf  by  herself,  bottom  upward. 
And  Mr.  Hay  ward's  sacred  head — the  most  ven- 
erable and  venerated  in  the  Nihilist  hierarchy — 
showed  dark  for  one  moment  as  a  black  spot  on 
the  white  foam  .  .  .  R,nd  then  went  under  resist- 
lessly. 

At  that  appalling  sight  Owen  burst  like  a  child 
into  a  wild  shout  of  horror.  Mr.  Hay  ward  up- 
set!   Mr.  Hay  ward  drowning!    In  a  moment, 


DBRS. 

in't  say  the  word 

ring  his  gesture, 
;  aud  paused  with 
;al  signal,  J'Oflf," 
ve  seemed  to  have 
lie  cried  his  name 
pectediy,  clapped 
nen  and  children 
»bed  aloud  in  his 
Owen,  Owen!" 
y  what  was  hap- 
>  scene  was  sud- 
A  terrible  awe 
the  water,  catch- 
er held  back  by 
18,  hurried  it  f  or- 
lown,  it  clashed 
I  the  lasher.     At 
w  of  white  foam 
in  anger,  on  tba 

that  point,  the 
ulk.'  The  sculls 
I  seething  gulf, 
bottom  upward. 
I — the  most  ven- 
ilist  hieriu-chy — 

a  black  spot  on 
)nt  under  resist- 

>urst  like  a  child 

r.  Hayward  up- 

In  a  moment, 


his  own  danger  was  forgotten  forthwith  in  the 
profound  realization  of  that  irreparable  loss  to 
Russia  and  to  humanity.  Oh,  how  terrible  he 
should  be  so  hampered  by  that  crushed  and  man- 
gled hand!  But  still,  he  must  risk  it.  Gould 
he  bring  him  out  alive?  Over!  Over!  and  try 
for  it! 


*  ,.  -  ''     '■'-' 


.^j^S;- 


•.»S'   ,•   ••»l    .        A    - 


--t    »-,     -         ^ 


896 


UNDKB  SEAUED  OROBR8. 


.:.>;■ 


■.f.^i'^h;'' 


CHAPTER    XXXV. 


DISCIPLINE. 


With  a  deadly  cry  of  alarm,  Owen  steered  his 
cauoe  into  the  midut  of  the  stream  and  dashed 
straight  down  the  lasher  after  Mr.  Hay  ward. 
At  its  foot  the  canoe  upset,  and  the  paddle  was 
•  wrenched  from  his  hands — he  had  expected  that 
much.  Next  moment  he  found  himself,  in  coat 
and  boots  and  trousers,  battling  hard  for  dear  life 
in  the  icy-cold  water. 

Just  at  first,  the  mad  current  sucked  him  under 
with  its  force,  and  cast  him  up  again  as  it  willed, 
and  sucked  him  down  once  more,  helpless,  like  a 
straw  bolow  Niagara.  He  danced  about,  flung 
hither  and  thither  at  its  caprice,  half  uncon- 
scious. But  after  a  minute  or  two,  as  he  grew 
gradually  more  used  to  the  icy  chill,  he  felt  his 
limbs  alive,  and  struck  out  with  desperate  strokes, 
in  spite  of  the  wounded  arm  that  shot  pain  along 
its  whole  length  at  every  fierce  contraction  of 
those  powerful  muscles.  Even  then,  for  a  sec- 
ond or  two,  the  natural  instinct  of  self-preserva- 
tion alone  inspired  him.  He  plunged  blindly 
toward  the  shore,  in   a  wild    fight    with  the 


WHi'Mm^am 


IDBRS. 


'h--t  u 


XV. 


Owen  steered  his 
'earn  and  dashed 
r  Mr.  Hay  ward. 
i  the  paddle  was 
lad  expected  that 
1  himaeif,  iu  coat 
hard  for  dear  life 

ucked  him  under 

igain  as  it  willed, 

3,  helpless,  like  a 

ced  about,  flung 

ice,   half  uncon- 

two,  as  he  grew 

chill,  he  felt  his 

lesperate  strokes, 

b  shot  pain  along 

e  contraction  of 

then,  for  a  sec- 

of  self-preserva- 

plunged  blindly 

fight    with  the 


> ,  '/•■  t 


numbing  eddies,  without  so  much  as  ever  re- 
n\eml)ering,  under  the  deadening  effect  of  the 
sudden  shock  on  his  nerves,  the  very  existence 
of  Mr.  Hayward  or  his  pressing  danger.  The 
water  all  round  seemed  to  absorb  and  engross 
his  entire  attention.  He  was  conscious  only  of 
deadly  cold,  and  of  the  undertow  that  dragged 
him  down,  iu  his  clinging  clothes,  and  of  sharp 
pains  in  his  arm  that  all  but  disabled  him  fur 
swimming. 

After  very  few  such  strokes,  however,  he  came 
U  himself  suddenly.  With  another  wild  cry, 
the  truth  broke  in  upon  him  again.  Mr.  Hay- 
ward!  Mr.  Hayward!  Drowning,  drowning, 
drowning!  In  an  agony  of  horror  Owen  Caza- 
let  raised  himself,  as  by  a  superhuman  effort, 
head  and  shoulders  above  the  cold  flood,  and 
peered  around  him,  aghast,  for  his  friend  and 
guardian.  Not  a  sign  of  the  man  anywher?! 
Not  a  mark ;  not  a  token !  He  must  have  gone 
under  forever.  At  that  thought  Owen's  blood 
ran  colder  within  him  than  even  the  ice-cold 
water  without.  This  was  all  his  own  doing! 
This  was  the  outcome  of  his  defection !  He  was 
his  ^Master's  murderer.  By  his  betrayal  of  the 
Cause  it  was  he  who  had  brought  Mr.  Hayward 
into  such  deadly  peril!  Help,  help,  oh,  help! 
What  would  he  not  do  to  retrieve  himself?  But 
how  do  it?  How  save  him?  How  repair  this 
evil? 

Frozen  without  and  within,  but  fiery  hot  at 
heart  with  this  new  sense  of  wild  danger — not 
for  himself,  not  for  himself,  but  for  the  Chief 


I 


•  if 


ia 


898 


UNDKR  flKALBD  OKDRRS. 


im 


of  tho  Cause,  tlie  man  Ik*  revoroil  and  respected 
above  all  men  liviut; — Owen  began  tu  Hwim  nii 
once  more,  with  fiery  zeal,  no  longer  Hhoroward 
now,  but  Btraight  down  the  mid  pool,  in  the  direc- 
tion whore  the  eddies  must  have  curried  Mr.  Hay 
ward.  As  he  swam,  his  maimed  ami  at  oarh 
stroke  grew  more  and  more  unlw^arably  painful. 
But  still  he  persevered,  striking  out  with  lioth 
legs  and  with  his  loft,  as  best  ho  might,  while 
tho  right  hung  useless;  battling  the  eddies  in  a 
fierce  struggle)  escaping  with  difficulty  i'rom 
those  great  watery  arms  that  tried  to  clutch  at 
him  from  below  with  intangible  fingers  and 
whirl  him  resistlessly  in  their  vor'.ex,  and  pull 
him  under  like  a  straw,  to  fling  liim  up  again,  a 
mangled  corpse,  on  the  milk-white  foam  some 
liundred  yards  further.  It  was  a  life  imd-death 
grapple.  Owen  wrestled  with  the  water  as  one 
might  wrestle  in  fight  with  a  human  combatant. 
At  last,  as  he  fought  his  way  out  into  one  un- 
bubbling  swash,  that  surged  oozily  to  the  tDp,  a 
dark  object  in  front  of  him  rose  for  a  second,  un- 
certain, on  the  gurgling  surface.  Hair,  hair!  a 
man's  head!  It  was  him!  Mr.  Hay  ward!  With 
a  mad  impulse  of  joy  Owen  lunged  out  at  it  and 
seized  it.  He  held  it  aloft  in  his  grasp — propped 
it  up  again — caught  and  clutched.it.  The  water 
tried  to  wrest  it  awaj',  but  Owen  clung  to  it  and 
kept  it.  The  left  hand  under  the  chin!  Under 
the  arm!  Under  the  shoulder!  He  was  alive 
Btill!   alive!    Breathing,  choking,  and  sputter- 


ing! 
"Oh, 


Mr.    Hayward!    Cling  tight  to  me!" 


.jt.wii — 


(DKR8. 

roil  nnd  respected 

begun  tu  Hwiiii  nii 

lunger  Hhoreward 

I  pool,  in  thedirec- 

)  carried  Mr.  Hay 

ined  ami  at  each 

ilM»arably  painful. 

ng  out  with  Irotli 

t  ho  might,  while 

rig  the  eddies  in  a 

h   difficulty   from 

tried  to  clutch  at 

Bfible  fingers   and 

•  vor'.ex,  and  pull 

•;  liin»  up  again,  a 

white  foam  t»ome 

8  a  life- find-death 

the  water  as  one 

uman  combatant. 

out  into  one  un- 

3zily  to  the  top,  a 

for  a  second,  un- 

.     Hair,  hair!  a 

Hayward!   With 

iged  out  at  it  and 

8  grasp — propped 

(d.it.     The  water 

n  clung  to  it  and 

he  chin !     Under 

He  was  alive 

ng,  and  sputter- 

:  tight  to  me!" 


UNDEK  SBAIilirD  ORDRRS. 


Owen  cried,  between  fear  and  ioy.  "Not  on 
my  arms.  Don't  impede  me!  Let  mo  hold  you 
under  the  chest  I  So.  Now  strikeout!  To  land! 
To  landward  I" 

Bat  Mr.  Hayward,  half  drowned,  and  nunilied 
through  with  the  old,  made  answer  in  a  voice 
road(»red  half  inaudible  by  the  wattir  in  his  wind- 
pipe. 

"No,  no!  Let  me  drown,  my  boy!  Don  t  try 
tosavome!  Don'tawim!  Don't  strike  out!  Let 
us  both  go  down  together!" 

At  that  moment  as  he  steadied  himself  one  of 
the  sculls  rose  up,  ltf>bbJng,  by  his  side,  on  the 
water.  Owou  seized  it,  and  made  Mr.  Hayward 
grip  liis  deadened  white  fingers  round  the  thick 
part  jf  the  shaft.  Then,  holding  it  himself  at 
the  same  time,  and  striking  out  with  his  two 
strong  thighs,  he  tiitMl  with  all  his  might  to  push 
his  rescued  friend  shoreward.  But  Mr.  Hay- 
ward, seeing  what  he  meant,  unclasped  his  hooked 
fingers  and  let  the  oar  go  suddenly.  In  a  second 
he  had  g^ne  under  again,  the  water  sucking  him 
iu  as  the  eddy  from  an  oar  sucks  down  a  fioating 
sijeck  of  feathery  swan'c-down.  Once  more  Owen 
plunged  after  him,  and  dived  with  breath  held 
hard  into  the  ice-cold  whirlpool.  It  was  an  aw- 
ful moment.  He  felt  his  wind  fail  him.  The 
water  was  in  his  nostrils,  his  mouth,  his  lungs. 
Groping  blindly  in  the  dark,  he  caught  a  coat  a 
second  time.  Then  he  clutched  his  man  by  the 
arm,  and,  with  a  terrible  spurt,  brought  him 
back  to  the  surface.  Then,  a  deadly  struggle 
began  between  the  two  men,  the  rescuer  and  the 


x"-     , 


^;-'*;^ 


890 


UNDER   HEAMtD  OKDRR8. 


-> 


m  : 


i5- 


:^ 


rei'cuod,  in  the  piBrcing  cold  WHter,  Mr.  HHy- 
Wiiri^  fought  hard  for  lenvo  to  drawn  if  he  choHe; 
he  gripped  ( )wen  so  tight  he  alnioHt  drugged  him 
under.  Owou,  on  liis  Hide,  fought  hard  in  rottirn 
to  Have  his  friend 'h  life,  and  all  the  ho|Kw  of 
RiiHttia.  His  wounded  arm  got  a  fior^e  wrench, 
too,  in  the  souffle  that  made  him  scream  aloud 
with  pain,  and  all  but  unmanned  him  for  the 
fight.  But  still  he  persevered.  It  was  with 
difficulty  ho  kept  himwelf  up,  and  floundered  on 
througli  the  water,  fighting  his  way  every  inch 
with  Mr.  Hay  ward  presseil  close  like  a  bahy  to 
his  bosom.  Thank  Heaven  for  one  thing — he  was 
a  wonderful  swimmer.  The  very  hojHslessnees 
of  the  case  8e<>iiiiMl  to  instil  of  itself  fresh  force 
into  his  UniUs,  Tlie  stnig^le  was  so  hard,  the 
odds  n»;  ist  him  so  enormous.  With  clothes, 
and  boots,  and  in  that  numbin??  cold,  maimed  of 
one  arm,  he  yet  stemmed  the  deadly  stream,  and 
brought  out  tlie  drowning  man,  against  his  own 
will,  to  the  i)ankside. 

By  that  time  his  force  had  almost  failed  him. 
But  still,  with  a  desperate  spring,  lie  lifted  him- 
self ashore,  by  leaning  on  his  woundoii  right 
md  vaulting  out  of  the  water,  while  with  his 
left  he  retained  his  grasp  on  Mr.  Hayward's 
collar.  After  that,  he  dragged  his  companion 
unceremoniously  to  the  bank,  and  laid  him 
there,  panting  and  .shivering,  a  torn  and  drag- 
gled thing,  in  a  great  wet  mess  of  close  and 
clinging  clothing. 

Mr.    Hayward    looked    up    at  him,    faintly, 
through  a  dim  mist  of  Watery  eyes. 


:s-£i**£S&*5«i^^;4^i^ 


■1?t- 


DRRH. 

iTHter,  Mr.  Hny- 
n»wn  if  he  ohoBe; 
iioHt  drugged  him 
ht  hard  in  rottirn 
all  the  ho|His  of 
b  a  fierce  wrench, 
lim  Bcrortm  aloud 
ined  him  for  the 
1.  It  WH8  with 
nd  floundore'l  on 
I  way  every  inch 
Be  like  a  bahy  to 
ne  thing — he  whh 
'^ery  hopelessnefM 
itself  fresh  force 
was  BO  hard,  the 
I.     With  clotheB, 

cold,  maimed  of 
ftdly  stream,  and 

against  his  own 

most  failed  him. 
g,  lie  lifted  him- 

woiinded  right 
,  while  with  his 

Mp.  Hayward's 
1  his  companion 
,  and  laid  him 
.  torn  and  drag- 
388  of  close  and 

it  him,    faintly, 
eyes. 


UNDER  HRAI.RD  ORDERS. 


881 


mUm 


riY;'^i#iy  fir ' 


"What  did  you  do  that  for,  my  boy?"  he 
asked,  in  a  ttort  of  despairing  expostulation. 

"I  couldn't  let  you  droun,  could  I?"  Owen 
answered,  doggedly,  leaning  over  him  all  drip- 
ping. 

"And  I  would  have  lot //om.'"  Mr.  Hay  ward 
retorted,  pulling  hiraself  togetljerimd  sitting  up, 
the  very  pieturo  of  blank  and  dismal  despair,  in 
his  wot,  icy  clothes,  with  the  cold  wind  whistling 
through  them. 

"But  that  was  different!"  Owon  answered. 
"I  had  brokcni  the  bond,  and  deserved  the 
penalty.  I  was  waiting  there,  ready  for  the 
word  of  command.  When  that  word  came,  I'd 
liave  gone  over  and  drowned  myself  then  and 
there  without  a  moment's  hesitation," 
»'  "Owen!  you  are  a  man!"  Mr.  Hay  ward  cried, 
raising  himself. 

Owen  stood  up  in  his  turn,  and  grasped  the 
cold  hand  hard. 

"Now  run  back  to  the  village,"  he  cried,  "as 
quick  and  fa«t  as  you  can  go.  Don't  delay  an- 
other minute.     Our  Russia  has  need  of  you!" 

He  turned  to  tbo  brink  himself  in  his  dripping- 
things,  and  looked  wistfully  at  the  water.  It 
was  hard  to  die — hard  to  leave  lone;  but  the 
Cause  demanded  it.  As  he  stood  and  gazed,  Mr. 
Hayward  laid  his  hand  on  his  pupil's  shoulder 
with  the  old  kindly  weight. 

"My  boy,  what  are  you  going  to  do?"  he 
cried,  startled.  "You  won't  surely  try  again? 
You'll  come  back  to  the  inn  with  me?" 

But  Owen  only  gazed  harder  at  the  great  gur- 


rrl-f '.1 


-j-'4 


8S2 


UNDER  SBALBD   ORDBRS. 


glin^  eddies  from  which  he  had  just  with  such 
difficulty  and  danger  emerged.  The  cold  hand 
uow  numbed  him. 

"No,  no!  That  was  to  save  your  life,"  he 
said,  with  chattering  teeth.  "I  know  my  duty, 
I  hope.  Go,  go — and  be  safe.  When  once  you're 
well  out  of  sight  I  shall  do  as  I  ought;  I  shall 
obey  my  orders." 

"Owen!"  Mr.  Hayward  cried,  holding  him 
tight.  "Never!  Never!  You  can't!  You've 
got  no-  orders.  I  haven.' «  given  them  yet!  Do 
as  you  are  told.  Hold  back.  Disc' pline's  dis- 
ciplint.  This  isn't  what  I  bid  you.  It  was  to 
be  at  the  word  'Off,'  and  I've  never  spoken  it." 

"Well,  you've  spoken  it  now,  then!"  Owen 
answered,  half  mad  with  cold  and  despair.  "I 
hope  I'm  no  coward.  I  won't  take  advantage  of 
having  saved  your  life  against  tremendous  odds 
1o  save  my  own  against  your  express  orders. 
Qood-by,  Mr.  Hayward.  I've  beeu  a  useless 
son,  an  unprofitable  servant.  I've  served  Russia 
ill.  This  is  the  only  thing  now.  .  .  .  Good-bj'I 
Good-bv!     Give  my  love  to  lone!" 

And  without  one  moment's  delay,  tearing  him- 
self madly  from  the  man's  grasp,  he  plunged  in 
once  more  into  the  icy-cold  pool  that  gurgled  and 
bubbled  in  uoadly  tide  before  hinl. 

True  soldier  to  the  last,  he  obeyed  his  sealed 
orders.  ■* 


Ij'< 


had  just  with  such 
3d.     The  cold  hand 

save  your  life,"  he 

"I  know  my  duty, 

When  once  you're 

as  I  ought;  I  shall 


cried,  holding  him 
"ou  can't!  You've 
iven  them  yet!  Do 
c.  Disc' pline's  dis- 
»id  you.  It  was  to 
re  never  spoken  it." 
now,  then!"  Owen 
Ad  and  despair.  "I 
't  take  advantage  of 
ist  tremendous  odds 
our  express  orders. 
I've  been  a  useless 
I've  served  Russia 
low.  .  .  .  Good-by! 
[one!" 

1  delay,  tearing  him  ■ 
frasp,  he  plunged  in 
ool  that  gurgled  and 
(  hinl. 
)  obeyed  his  sealed 


U9r%f ' 


UKDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


«r*?wTt*v'>: 


833 


'«MViiS?-' 


'■t^f^'ff*^.-  .»-t5i¥P-'S?»3H?f 


»'»i^  ■S*|j-«-'  :#|t;  ■■-_■" 


■*■■■    1    H«  •''■'■ 


,    w.        f    CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

;     I    !f.j        HOC    BRAT    IN    VOTIS. 

Mr.  Hayward  stood  aghast.  Mr.  Hayward 
paused  and  hesitated.  Not  in  doubt;  not  in  sus- 
pense ;  but  in  pure  bodily  shrinking  from  a  second 
fierce  conflict  with  that  deadly  water.  For  some 
instants,  he  gazed  at  the  swirling  cui-reut,  irreso- 
lute. Then,  lifting  his  hands  to  dive — for  the 
bank  shelved  sheer,  and  the  bottom  was  many 
feet  deep  inshore — he  plunged  boldly  in  after 
him,  and  struck  out  with  all  his  might  in  the 
direction  where  Owen  had  disappeared  beneath 
the  surface. 

It  was  no  easy  task,  however,  to  find  him;  for 
this  time,  the  lad,  as  he  had  no  life  to  save,  bore 
his  first  instructions  in  mind,  and  allowed  his 
wounded  arm  to  be  idle  by  his  side,  without 
struggling  or  floundering.  Nay,  more,  as  far  as 
he  was  able,  being  now  spent  with  swimming, 
he  let  himself  go  like  a  log,  and  drift  under  with 
the  current.  It  had  whirled  him  away  at  once, 
•lown  blind  channels  under  water.  But  Mr. 
Hayward  was  by  this  time  quite  as  much  in 
earnest  as  Owen  himself.  The  instinct  of  sav- 
ing life,  which  comes  upon  all  of  us  in  any  great 


'& 


mmm 


Mnti^A 


■*«*^P 


Wta. 


n 


|:>^ 


VNDBR   SEALED   ORDBRtf. 


crisis,  had  got  the  better  of  him,  involuntarily. 
He  couldn't  let  that  boy  drown,  be  he  traitcrr  or 
no  traitor — Owen,  his  own  Owen,  his  heart's 
fondest  pride,  his  disciple  and  his  friend,  tlie 
child  that  was  ten  thousand  tin  es  nearer  and 
dearer  than  a  son  to  him.  With  *^e  mad  erorgy 
of  despair,  he  dived  and  plunged  through  the 
greedy  eddies,  letting  the  current  suck  him  under 
iind  tjss  him  up  again  as  it  would,  but  filled  all 
the  while  with  one  devouring  thought— the  ab- 
solute necessity  for  bringing  back  Owen.  He 
had  sent  him  like  a  ciiminal  to  his  death— his 
own  dear,  dear  buy;  and  now  the  deed  was  done, 
he  would  have  given  his  own  life  a  dozen  times 
over  to  bring  him  back  again  in  safety. 

At  last,  by  a  miracle  of  keen  vision,  such  as 
cccurs  at  supreme  moments  to  high  nervous  or- 
ganizations, he  caught  sight  of  a  dark  object  far 
below  in  the  water — down,  down,  deep  down — 
carried  along  in  full  torrent.  IIis  heart  throbbed 
at  the  sight.  Diving  once  more  with  all  his 
force,  he  plunged  under  and  clutched  at  it. 
Ovvon,  half  conscious  still,  half  insensible  with 
the  cold,  tried  to  slip  from  his  grasp — that  wtvs  a 
point  of  honor.  He  struggled  to  be  free,  and  to 
drown.  With  an  effort  he  eluded  the  eager  hand 
that  clutched  him,  and  went  under  a  second 
time,  borne  headlong  by  the  rapids.  "Oh,  God! 
he's  drowning!"  Yet  again  Mr.  Hay  ward 
dived — again  canght  him  by  the  collar,  held 
him  firm  at  arms-length,  and  brought  him  out 
— chilled,  inert  and  motionless,  to  the  surface. 
Thir.    time,    Owen's  eyes  were  fast  shut;    his 


..-.^■.j<'iS^;^^.^*m=Y^«^*s(f&-'^si^,.:/.^'^iii-. 


)BRd. 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDEREt. 


33S 


xi,  involuntarily. 
I,  be  he  traitor  or 
iven,  his  heart's 
i  his  friend,  the 
in  88  nearer  and 
)  *ae  niadepprgy 
?ed  through  the 
t  suck  him  under 
uld,  but  filled  all 
thought— the  ab- 
)ack  Owen.  He 
to  his  death — his 
e  deed  was  done, 
ife  a  dozen  times 
1  safety. 

1  virion,  such  as 
high  nervous  or- 
a  dark  object  far 
vn,  deep  down — 
IS  heart  tlirobbed 
3re   with  all  his 

clutched  at    it. 

insensible  with 
rasp — that  wtus  a 
o  be  free,  and  to 
id  the  eager  hand 
under  a  second 
ids.     "Oh,  God! 

Mr.  Hayward 
the  collar,  held 
•rought  him  out 

to  the  surface. 

fast  shut;    his 


cheeks  were  deadly  white;  his  lips  looked  deep 
blue;  his  chest  and  lungs  moved  not.  Mr.  Hay- 
ward  had  hard  work  to  hold  him  up  with'one 
hand,  a  seemingly  lifeless  corpse,  above  the  wa- 
ter's edge,  while  with  the  other  he  struck  out 
fiercely  for  the  high  bank  beyond  him. 

It  was  a  hopeless  struggle.  How  could  he 
think  to  reach  land?  Numbed,  damped,  and 
half  drov...ed,  with  that  listless  dead  weight 
poised  all  prone  on  the  water's  brim  in  front  of 
him,  Mr.  Hayward  plunged  and  fought  and  bat- 
tled slowly  on  with  what  life  was  left  in  him — 
and  felt  all  the  while  the  water  sucking  him 
down,  irresistibly  down,  toward  the  race  of  the 
paper  mill.  Ho  was  losing  ground  each  minute, 
and  gasping  hard  now  for  breath.  The  water 
filled  his  ears,  i.  ostrils,  his  throat.  He  could 
hardly  hold  up  against  it.  Yet  in  an  agony  of 
despair,  he  still  bore  Owen  aloft,  and  kept  the 
lad's  mouth  just  a  hair's  breadth  above  the  sur- 
face with  superhuman  energy. 

He  couldn't  have  endured  one  minute  longer. 
He  felt  himself  going;  his  e3'^Gs  closed  mistily. 
But  just  then,  as  he  gashed  and  plunged  and 
knew  all  was  up,  a  voice  rang  clear  from  ten 
yards  in  front,  "Keep  him  afloat  there,  maister. 
We're  almost  on 'im.  That's  right!  Catch  the 
pole!    You 'ang  on.     I'll 'cok 'im." 

Mr.  Hayward  looked  up,  and  saw  dimly  be- 
fore him  two  men  in  a  punt,  one  holding  out  a 
pole,  while  the  other  lunged  toward  them  with  a 
friendly  boat-hook. 

The  drownin;  •  man  seized  the  pole  eagerly. 


336 


UNDBR  ^BALBD  ORDKRd. 


ft    "  f  .• 


and  still  clutching  Owen's  coat  collar,  put  the 
boat-hook  through  and  through  it,  and  let  the 
men  in  the  punt  haul  their  burden  in  carefully. 
Then  he  scrambled  into  the  boat  himself,  and, 
dripping  from  head  to  foot,  sat  down  in  the  bot- 
tom, cold,  wretched,  and  shivering.  "Is  he 
dead?"  he  asked,  in  a  hollow  voice,  and  with 
chattering  teeth,  feeling  for  the  first  time  in  his 
life  like  an  actual  murderer. 

One  of  the  men  turned  Owen  over  with  that 
irreverent  carelessness  so  characteristic  of  his 
class  in  dealing  with  a  corpse,  or  what  they  be- 
lieve to  be  one.  "Drownded,  I  take  it!"  hean- 
swered,  feeling  the  motionless  pulse,  and  then 
the  silent  heart.  "Not  a  stir  or  a  stroke  iu  'im. 
Anyhow,  he  ain't  breathing  just  now,  as  I  can 
feel.  But  there's  no  knowing  with  these  'ere 
cases  o'  wot  they  calls  suspended  animation. 
Bringin'  'em  back  again  to  life,  that's  more  like 
wot  it  is.  We'll  take  'im  clown  to  mill  and  see 
wot  we  can  do  with  'im." 

Mr.  Hayward  bent  over  the  pale  face,  all  hor- 
rorstrnck  in  heart  at  this  too  terrible  success  of 
his  scheme  and  his  orders.  "Oh,  don't  say  he's 
dead!"  he  cried  aloud,  wringing  his  hands. 
"Don't  tell  me  he's  drowned.  You'll  break  my 
poor  heart  worse  than  it's  broken  already,  if 
you  tell  me  that.  Oh,  Owen,  Owen,  Owen, 
Owen!" 

The  second  man  looked  on  with  that  curious 
philosophical  calm  that  belongs  to  the  waterside. 
"We  seed  the  dingy  a  comin'  down  stream,  bot- 
tom upwaa^,"  he  volunteered  slowly,  punting 


it  collar,  put  the 
ii  it,  and  let  the 
flen  in  carefully, 
oat  himself,  and, 
down  in  the  bot- 
vering.  "Is  he 
voice,  and  with 
)  first  time  in  his 

tt  over  with  that 
acteristic  of  his 
or  what  they  be- 
take it!"  hean- 
pulse,  and  then 
p  a  stroke  iu  'im. 
ist  now,  as  I  can 

with  these  'ere 
aded  animation. 

that's  more  like 
I  to  mill  and  see 

•ale  face,  all  hor- 
errible  success  of 
h,  don't  say  he's 
^ing  his  hands. 
You'll  break  my 
aken  already,  if 
I,  Owen,  Owen, 

rith  that  curious 
to  the  waterside, 
own  stream,  bot- 
slowly,  punting 


'  r  W,  '^^^W(^^'^fi:*^^^^''t  ?^^'' 


UNDER  SEALED   ORDERS. 


away  as  he  spoke;  "and  I  says  to  George,  says 
I,  'Why,  George,  that's  Wilcox's  dingy,  sure- 
ly 1'  And  George,  be  says  to  me,  'That's  so,' 
says  he,  'Jim.  Somebody's  upset,  for  certain.' 
And  then  ccme  the  canoe  turned  topsy-turvy  ae 
you  may  term  it;  and  says  I  to  George,  'Blest,' 
says  I,  'if  it  ain't  them  folks  up  to  Wilcoxes'. 
Don't  know  how  to  handle  a  boat,  seems,  not  a 
bit  they  don't.  Gone  clean  over  lasher.'  So  I 
out  with  the  punt,  and  I  up  with  the  pole, 
and  comes  down,  on  the  lookout  for  savin'  a 
lifo  —  thinkin'  at  ktist  to  earn  a  honest  suv- 
verin!" 

Mr.  Hay  ward  was  in  no  mood  just  then  to  re- 
flect to  himself  upon  the  man's  frank  sordidness 
of  nature.  He,  who  knew  men  and  women  so 
well,  could  at  least  feel  no  surprise  at  such  utter 
callousness.  But  he  was  too  full  of  his  own 
grief  to  find  room  for  anything  else.  He  only 
cried  aloud,  in  a  perfect  paroxysm  of  remorse 
and  wounded  affection,  "If  you  can  bring  that 
boy  to  life  again,  you  shall  have,  not  a  sover- 
eign, but  fifty  guineas!" 

TliG  man  Jim  raised  his  head  and  opened  his 
month  and  eyes.  He  could  hardly  believe  his 
ears.     He  repeated  slowly,  "Fifty  guineas!" 

But  the  other  man  cried  hastily,  "Pole  ahead 
to  the  mill,  Jim!  He've  got  some  life  in  him 
still."  He  felt  the  cold  heart  carefully.  "We 
might  bring  him  to  yet  with  brandy  and  blank- 
ets and  such.  Pole  ahead  for  dear  life !  'Taiu't 
every  day  o'  the  week  one  gets  the  chance  o' 
earnin'  fifty  guineas!" 


-.■-■m»i.«tea,'iif>.  fiiiiifcJiiwa^lSto 


iSi 


■«Wlt 


liMMl 


.♦'. 


Vi  ':i 


UNDER  lIsALBD  ORDBRg. 


|iN»|li*yijtp»-»ii 


Obedient  to  the  word,  Jim  poled  ahead  with  a 
will,  Mr.  Hayward  gtill  crouching  cold  on  the 
bare  floor  of  the  punt,  and  leaning  over  Owen, 
who  lay  calm  and  white  as  a  corpse,  with  open, 
sightless  eyes  turned  staringly  upward.  In  a 
minute  or  two  they  reached  the  staithe  or  little 
millside  landing-place.  The  two  mer  jumped 
out,  and  with  no  more  ceremony  than  they  would 
have  used  to  a  bale  of  waste  paper,  lifted  Owen 
between  them.  Mr.  Hay  ward  followed  them 
into  the  mill-keeper's  house.  There,  all  in  a 
moment,  was  confusion  and  bustle.  The  in- 
mates, well  used  to  such  scenes,  got  to  work 
immediately.  "There's  fifty  guineas  on  it, 
mother,"  Jim  murmured  to  his  wife,  and  the 
woman  nodded.  They  brought  down  blankets 
iu  hot  haste,  and  stripping  ofF  Owen's  wet  cloth- 
ing, laid  him  down  in  them,  well  warmed,  be- 
fore the  kitchen  fire.  Then  they  poured  brandy 
down  his  throat,  and  tegan  to  move  his  arms  up 
and  down  with  a  measured  motion.  "Regular 
way  to  bring  'em  to,"  the  man  G«orge  said 
calmly.  "Same  as  you  breathe  yourself,  on'y 
slower.  Fill  the  lungs  each  go.  Directions  of 
the  R'yal  'Umane  Society." 

For  twenty  minutes  they  rubbed  and  chafed, 
and  worked  his  arms  continuously.  Mr.  Hay- 
ward,  loosely  wrapped  himself  in  the  mill 
keeper's  ulster,  sat  with  chattering  teeth  look- 
ing on  in  blank  despair.  Owen  was  dead,  dead, 
dead — and  all  was  worse  than  lost  to  him ! 

He  had  meant  to  let  the  boy  drown-^<ind  then 
go  over  himself,  as  if  he  had  been  accidentally 


n 


'"bfi 


•KE8. 

ed  ahead  with  a 
ing  cnid  on  the 
ing  over  Owen, 
irpee,  with  open, 

upward.  In  a 
I  staithe  or  little 
yo  mer  jumped 
than  they  would 
per,  lifted  Owen 

followed  them 
There,  all  in  a 
)U8tle,  The  in- 
58,  got  to  work 
guineas  on  it, 
8  wife,  and  the 

down  blflnkete 
wen's  wet  cloth- 
ell  warmed,  be- 
'  poured  brandy 
ove  his  arms  up 
kion,  "Regular 
an  George  said 
3  yourself,  on'y 
>.     Directions  of 

)ed  and  chafed, 
sly.  Mr.  Hay- 
f  in  the  mill 
•ing  teeth  look- 
was  dead,  dead, 
it  to  him ! 
rown-^<ind  then 
Jen  accidentally 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS 


lost  in  trying  to  savj  his  companion.  But  that 
Owen  should  die,  and  he  should  survive  him  like 
this  —  that  VN  is  unutterable,  unspeakable,  tuo 
whuUy  ghasUy  and  crudhing. 

"I've  murdered  him!  I've  murdered  him!" 
he  cried  to  himself  in  Russian,  many,  many 
times  over,  wringing  his  numb  bands  wretchedly 
beside  the  white  motionless  body. 

But  the  men  worked  on,  meanwhile,  taking 
no  notice  of  his  groans,  with  mechanical  persist- 
ence and  strange  perseverance.  Fifty  guineas 
were  at  stake — and  you  never  can  really  tell 
when  a  body's  drowned!  They  moved  tho 
arms  up  and  down  in  long  measured  swing,  io' 
make  artificial  breathing,  many  minutes  after 
Mr.  Hay  ward  had  given  up  all  for  lost,  and  re- 
lapsed into  hopeless  and  speechless  misery. 

At  last,  all  at  once,  after  one  vigorous  move- 
ment, a  sigh,  a  flutter  in  tho  breast,  a  strange 
gasp,  a  start  —  then  "He's  breathing!  He's 
breathing!" 

Mr.  Hayward,  thrilled  through  at  the  words, 
looked  down  at  him  in  breathless  and  eager  anx- 
iety. The  bare  bosom  was  heaving  and  falling 
now  once  more.  "Brandy!  brandy!"  cried  the 
man  George;  and  Mr.  Hayward  passed  it  to 
him.  Another  loiig  interval,  and  Owen  cpened 
his  eyes.  Mr.  Hayward  fell  on  his  knees  in  a 
wild  transport  of  joy.  "Thank  Heaven!"  he 
cried  fervenlly  in  Russian  once  more;  "thep  I 
haven't  murdered  him!" 

And  Owen,  gazing  dimly  through  a  vague 
mist  of  faiutness,  seemed  to  see  his  friend's  face 


•i'.«?-.- 


CNDKR   SXALBO   OBDKns. 


[ 


held  anxionsly  over  him. 
hand.     "Mr,    Hay  ward  I 
said.     "lone!  lone!" 


He  raised  his  white 
Mr.    Hayward!"    he 


R'V 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 


AN    UNHAPPY    AP08TATK. 


■t.    - 


Kv 


After  tiie  tragedy  of  it,  the  comedy.  There's 
nothing  on  eartii  more  absurd  than  the  drowned 
rat  of  the  proverb.  Wet,  cold,  and  wretched, 
Mr.  Hayward  sat  on  shivering,  and  watched  for 
an  hour  or  two  beside  the  rude  trestle  bed  they 
made  up  in  haste  for  the  lad  he  had  tried,  and 
intended,  to  murder — or  at  least  to  aid  and  abet 
in  a  concerted  suicide.  The  woman  at  the  paper 
mill  urged  him  to  return  at  once  to  the,  Wil- 
coxes'  and  get  dry  clothes  and  food.  He'd  catch 
his  death  o'  cold,  she  said,  in  them  nasty  damp 
things;  but  Mr.  Hayward  wouldn't  hear  of  mov- 
ing from  Owen's  bed  till  he  was  certain  of  his 
recovery.  The  lad,  after  his  breathing  was  once 
fairly  restored,  fell  shortly  into  a  deep  sleep  that 
lasted  some  hours.  And  all  the  time  while  he 
slept  Mr.  Hayward  sat  watchful  and  attentive 
by  his  side,  and  Imnt  over  him  tenderly. 

Slowly  Owen  recovered,  thanks  to  a  splendid 


>KP.8. 


UKDBB  SBALBD  ORDERS. 


341 


ruised  his  white 
Hay  ward  I"    he 


m. 

ITATK. 

medy.     There's 
lan  the  drowned 

and  wretched, 
ind  watched  for 
trestle  bed  they 
5  had  tried,  and 

to  aid  and  abet 
lan  at  the  paper 
ice  to  the,  Wil- 
)d.  He'd  catch 
em  nasty  damp 
I't  hear  of  mov- 
s  certain  of  his 
ithing  was  once 
deep  sleep  that 
9  time  while  he 
i  and  attentive 
oderly. 
9  to  a  splendid 


oonstitatioii.    The  drowning  itself  wouldn't  have 
hurt  him,  the  doctor  said,  but  for  the  cold  and 
tile  shock;  his  dangerous  symptoms  were  those    ' 
of  a  nerv^ous  crisis.     And  he  was  ill  froni  the   : 
.strain.     They  moved  him  two  days  later  from 
the  paper  mill  to  the  inn;  where,  under  good 
Mrs.  Wilcox's  motherly  care,  he  made  gradual 
progress.     To  the  people  in  the  village,  of  course, 
it  was  only  the  common  and  familiar  boat  acci- 
dent.    Young  fellow  like  'im  ought  to  a  knowed 
by  this  time  how  to  manage  a  canoe ;  an'  a  did 
too,  come  to  that;  on'y  the  old  'uu  missed  his  tip-  "* 
and  went  over  lasher,  and  the  young  'un,  tryin* 
to  save  'un,  got  upsot  hisself  and  went  floun- 
derin'   about  after   'un,   in  the  ice-cold  water. 
Tliem  current  do  set  strong  by  they  floodgates   • 
above  paper-mill.     Easy  enough  to  drownd  one- 
self there,  even  at  the  best  o'  times,  let  alone  in 
f  reezin'  cold  winter  weather. 

The  day  after  the  "acciflent"  Mr.  Hay  ward 
dispatched  a  penitent  telegram,  nominally  to 
Sacha,  but  really  of  course  to  lone.  "Owen 
upset  in  canoe  in  the  river  and  nearly  drowned. 
I  helped  to  rescue  him.  He  is  now  recovering 
and  doing  very*  well.  Gome  down,  if  you  like, 
with  lone,  to  nurse  him.'' 

That  same  night,  needless  to  say,  the  two  girls 
were  by  his  side.  lone  met  Mr.  Hay  ward  with  , 
a  natural  look  of  the  profoundest  suspicion.  But 
Mr.  Hay  ward,  ever  gentle  and  courteous  as  of 
old,  half  disarmed  her  wrath  at  once  by  taking 
her  aside  into  the  next  room,  and  holding  her 
hand  in  bis  while  he  said  to  her  frankly,  "Little 


t 


mmxajHuutm 


I 


UNDER   HKALKU   ORDBRti. 


daiightor,  I  lovo  liitu  hh  if  I  wori<  his  own  father. 
Ami,  for  liis  rtuke,  I  1  >vo  you,  too,  lonu.  If  only 
yon  knew  nil,  yuu  vvonld  know  I  war!  really  tiy- 
iag  tu  Have  him.  But  when  it  caino  to  the  i>oint, 
I  couldn't  stand  it  myHolf,  and,  o\m\  against 
his  own  will,  I  was  coniiii  11(  1  to  roscnie  him. 
Though  nii'.v  that  I've  rcBi-uci  him,  tlio  orig- 
inal danger  Btiil  RturoH  me  in  the  face.  Lno, 
it's  not  mo.  It's  uwwmhled  Knssia.  T's'o  saved 
him  from  <.ne  death,  only  to  hand  him  over  in 
the  end  to  another  and  a  worwo  one." 

lone  looked  at  him,  aghast.  It  was  moro  than 
she  could  understand.  "Mr.  Hayward,"  ;  he 
said,  not  unkindly — for  who  could  l)o  ii'jrry  with 
the  luanV  he  had  sucli  suftering  on  hi»  face,  such 
infinito  ruinorso  and  pain  in  his  weary  eyehalls 
— "I  don't  know  wliat  to  make  of  it  all.  I'm  a 
HJmpl'  'inglish  girl,  at  heart,  in  spil  ■  of  my 
Greek  lud  Norwegian  blood;  brought  up  in 
L'  Ion  and  in  a  country  village;  and  I  can't 
gfrasj)  all  these  strange  things  when  I  find  my- 
seli  broiiglit  face  to  fai-e  with  your  RuHsian 
nihilism.  But  this  mystery  appall  me.  You 
must  toll  me  what  it  all  means.  What  is  this 
strange  danger  that  hangs  over  Owen?" 

Mr.  Hayward  paused  and  g.i/od  at  her.  He 
was  holding  her  hand  still— that  soft  round  little 
hand  with  the  dimples  at  the  joints — and  he 
smootlud  it  with  his  own,  very  gently  and  ten- 
derly'. TLoy  were  contrasted,  those  two,  like 
Russia  and  England.  Ruric  Brassoff's  was 
thin,  hard,  iron-looking,  virile;  lone  Dracopo- 
li's  was  delicate  and  rounded,  and  the  soft  flesh 


BRS. 

his  own  father. 
),  lono.  If  only 
[  ivuri  really  ti\  - 
vino  to  the  iwint, 
1,   oven  agiiiiiHt 

to  ro8(Mie  him. 

him,  the  orig- 
tho  ini'a.  L  no, 
aia.  I's'osuvfil 
ml  him  over  in 
no." 

t  w;i8  mofo  than 
^layward,"  f^lie 
d  ho  i'lfTfry  witli 
m  hiti  tHoe,  sucli 

woury  eyeballs 
if  it  all.  I'm  a 
in  8pil.>  of  my 
brought  up  in 
!?o;  and  I  can't 
hen  I  find  my- 

your   IliiHBian 
[mU  me.      You 
What  is  this 
wen?" 

jd  at  her.  He 
loft  round  little 
joints — and  he 
gently  and  ten- 
hose  two,  like 
liiussoff's  was 
lone  Dracopo- 
i  the  soft  flesh 


UNDER   SRALKf*   *>RDBR8. 


r 

■  stood  out  on  it,  dimphxl,  ho  that  it  yielded  to  Uie 
I  touch  like  a  jwvdded  book  ct)ver.  "My  diiugh- 
I  ter,"  the  stern  man  waid  slowly  in  .is  silvery 
voice,  "you're  the  onU'  person  alivo — man,  wo- 
man, or  child — who  i  .or  yet  penetrated  the  se- 
cret of  my  existence.  And  now  I  BupiM)S<'  in 
time,  you'll  be  Owen's  wife.  What  use  in  con- 
cealing from  you  what  you  must  know  here- 
after? Sooner  or  later,  I  nuist  have  an  explana< 
tion  with  Owen;  must  tell  him  the  difficulties 
that  lie  in  my  way,  and  the  means  I  shall  iiso  or 
try  to  use  in  the  effort,  the  hopeless  effort,  to 
nieet  and  avert  them.  When  that  explanation 
comes — lone,  it's  promising  a  great  deal;  it's 
breaking  all  the  vows  and  oaths  by  which  our 
saciety  is  bound;  it's  exposing  the  secrets  of  the 
Cause  to  a  woman  and  an, outsider;  but  .  .  . 
I  trust  you  so  much,  you  shall  bo  present  and 
hear  it." 

He  said  it  with  such  an  air  of  distinguished 
honor  conferred  that  lone  herself  couldn't  help 
feeling,  deeply  complimented.  "Thank  you," 
she  said,  in  reply.  "But,  Mr.  Hayward,  one 
thingi  You  must  answer  me  that,  or  how  can 
I  hold  your  hand?  'Did  you,  or  did  you  not, 
upset  him  into  the  water?" 

Mr.  Hayward  withdrew  his  hand  quickly,  as 
if  he  had  been  stung.  His  face,  already  lined 
and  pallid  with  suspense,  showed  every  sign  of 
acute  pain  at  the  bare  suggestion.  "lone!"  he 
cried,  drawing  back.  "Oh,  how  can  you?  How 
can  you  1  How  much  you  misunderstand  me,  if 
you  think  such  a  question  worth  asking !     How 


„'u,vMfMS^  P^&iMii&i 


■t 


844 


UNDER  HKALKD   ORDERS. 


mucli  you  tniHUDderHtiind  him,  if  you  think  such 
a  step  would  over  be  necessfiry!" 

"Thou  he  tried  to  drown  hiniHolf  of  Ihh  own 
accordy"  lono  oxchiinied,  bridling  up  und  deeply 
stirred  with  liornr.  v*.£.A 

•'Wiiittuid  (irik  him,"  Mr.  Htvyward  nnHWorod, 
••Hp'U  bo  l)etter  scon.  He'll  bo  able  to  tell  you, 
All  I  oan  pay  mywolf  just  at  present  is  this:  If  I 
advised  him  to  take  such  an  unhuppy  course,  it 
was  only  to  save  him — and  you,  too,  through 
him — from  greater  pain  and  worse  disgrace  in 
the  end;  from  which  I  don't  know  now  how  I'm 
ever  to  save  you." 

loue  lo  )ked  ut  him  fixedly.  The  man's  drawn 
face  was  wiung  by  despair  and  evident  anguish. 
Sho  gave  him  her  hand  once  more.  "I  believe 
you,  Mr.  Hayvvaid,"  she  said  simply.  Some- 
how, it  wiis  impossible  to  bo  near  that  strange 
being  and  not  to  sympathize  with  him  for  the 
moment  He  had  tried  to  drown  her  Owen — of 
that  lone  felt  sure,  and  yet— and  yet  he  had  done 
it,  ahe  vaguely  recognized  herself,  in  no  un 
friendly  spirit.  He  might  be  a  murderer,  per 
haps,  but  at  least  he  was  a  murderer  with  the 
best  possible  intentions. 

It  was  dreadful  for  simple  English  people  like 
her  and  Owen  to  get  mixed  up  with  these  iuoom- 
prehonsible  and  too  complex  Russian  revolution- 
ists. Yet  wh.it  could  they  do?  He  was  born  to 
it.     It  was  his  destiny. 

Mr.  Hayward  stroked  his  face  with  one  in- 
scrutable hand.  There  was  blank  despondency 
in  the  action;  lone  felt  it  and  was  sorry  for  him. 


rf"»»S-lt5ffi.^-iM--».-.fl!>K»-S'S,V* 


w  - 

[>RR8. 

if  you  think  such 

iiHolf  of  his  own 
ug  up  Hnd  deeply 

ywjird  nnsworod. 
I  able  to  tell  yon. 
!8ent  is  this:  If  I 
ihiippy  course,  it 
ju,  too,  through 
I'orse  disgrace  iu 
>w  now  how  I'm 

rhe  man's  drawn 
avidont  anguish, 
lore.  "I  believe 
simply.  Some- 
oar  that  strange 
ith  him  for  the 
n  her  Owen — of 
yet  he  had  done 
self,  in  no  un 
1  murderer,  per 
urderer  Avith  the 

dish  people  like 
ith  these  iiicom- 
isian  revolution- 
He  was  born  to 

;e  with  one  in- 
nk  despondency 
fl  sorry  for  him. 


UNPRR   HRAI.RD   ORnBRg. 


846 


Then  he  imced  up  and  down  the  room  once  or 
twice  in  silence.  At  last  he  H(>oko  agtiin.  His 
words  came  in  a  rush  like  a  summer  torrent. 
"My  child,"  ho  said,  bursting  forth,  "if  you 
know  all,  you  would  pity  me;  ah,  yes,  you  would 
pity  me;  oh,  how  you  would  pity  me!  A  fort- 
night ago,  I  saw  myself  within  measurable  dis- 
tance of  the  realization  of  the  hopes  of  a  Hfotime. 
I  was  glad.  I  was  exultant.  I  was  full  of  joy 
and  triumph.  At  that  very  moment,  when  I 
wrote  to  Owen  to  tell  him  of  our  great  good  hick 
— to  bid  him  rejoice  with  me,  to  assure  him  of 
victory — there  came  in  return  such  a  knockdown 
blow  that  I  thought  no  blow  on  earth  could  ever 
be  harder — no  fate  more  terrible.  Fortune,  1 
said  to  myself,  had  done  the  very  worst  she 
could  possibly  have  in  store  for  mo.  My  cup 
was  dashed  down  n«  I  held  it  to  my  lips.  Owen, 
my  own  boy,  whom  I  loved  more  dearly  than  I 
loved  my  life — for  whom  I'd  sacrifice  everything 
— whom  I'd  watched  and  guarded,  and  taught 
since  he  was  a  baby  in  arms,  just  able  to  lisp  his 
own  name  in  Russian — Owen,  Owen  went  back 
upon  me.  It  was  he  and  no  other.  He  told  me 
that  for  the  love  of  a  girl  he'd  wrecked  our  hopes 
and  plans  irretrievably.  .  .  .  And  did  I  hate 
that  girl  for  it?  .  .  .  No,  lone,  no;  for 
Owen's  sake,  I  loved  her — and  I  love  her!  I  love 
her!" 

He  laid  his  hand  like  a  father  on  the  loose 
chestnut  curls.  lone  felt  a  thrill  run  responsive 
through  and  through  her.  The  man's  eye  was 
aa  one  inspired.     His  lip  quivered  convulsively. 


•■  'Jaifm&V^-^  m-..Vl^1>i^'> 


-  ™w'-^j  u  II  tf "l^toi  I 


^0 


•  f  I—' i».j^ 


'??S!*:'- 


m 


i 


846 


UNDER  SBAI^D   ORDERS. 


'■ 


He  wont  on  yet  more  quickly.  "Tbat  was  bad, 
little  daugliter,"  he  sfiid,  still  fondling  the  chest- 
nut curls — and  lone  hadn't  tlie  heart  even  to  try 
to  prevent  him.  "That  was  bad.  That  was  a 
fall,  a  relapse,  a  backsliding.  Still,  though  my 
soul  was  broken,  I  had  one  tiling  left — and  that 
was  Owen.  All  my  hopes  for  him  were  gone  — 
crushed,  annihilated,  shattered.  But  Owen  him- 
self—and only  Owen — was  loft  The  boy,  not 
the  liberator;  my  spn,  not  my  instrument.  .  .  . 
I  had  hoped  for  a  meusiah  who  would  free  poor 
Russia.  I  was  left  with  a  dear  child — a  mere 
handsome  young  Englishman. 

"But  I  loved  him  still !  Oh,  lone,  how  I  loved 
him!  As  the  hopes  within  me  fell,  crushed,  so 
the  aflfections  quickened.  I  said  to  myself,  'I've 
loved  Russia,  like  a  fanatic,  all  my  weary  long 
life^  but  Owen  and  Russia  have  grown  so  inter- 
twined and  mixed  up  in  my  ideas — so  one  in  my 
inmost  soul— so  indistinguishably  blended — that 
now,  oh.  God,  I  don't  know  which  is  which. '  I 
lovo  Owen  in  the  end  even  bettor  than  Russia, 
There  he  stands,  concrete,  visible,  a  definite  tan- 
gible somebody  for  one's  heart  to  take  hold  of. 
I  loved  him  with  all  my  soul.  When  it  came  to 
the  pinch,  T  couldn't  bear  to  lose  him." 

He  paced  up  and  down  once  niSre.  Then  he 
returned  to  her,  all  on  fire.  His  eyes  glowed  ter- 
ribly, "lone,"  he  cried,  in  his  despair,  "I  can't 
tell  you  all  now.  It  would  burn  my  very  heart 
out.  But  this  much  I  will  tell  you,  let  Owen 
tell  the  rest.  I  felt  if  he  must  die,  I  ^ould  never 
outlive  him.     Not  a  day,  not  an  hour,  not  a  min- 


RDKRS. 

.  "That  was  bad, 
fondling  the  chest- 
e  heart  even  to  try 
bad.  That  was  a 
Still,  though  my 
ing  left— and  that 
■  him  were  gone  — 
.  But  Owen  him- 
>ft.  The  boy,  not 
nstrument.    ,    .    . 

0  would  free  poor 
ear  child — a  mere 

,  lone,  how  I  loved 
e  fell,  crushed,  so 
id  to  myself,  'I've 
dl  my  weary  loug 
i^e  grown  so  iutor- 
eas — so  one  in  my 
■bly  blended— that 
liich  is  which. '  I 
Jttor  than  Russia. 
Ae,  a  definite  tan- 
•t  to  take  hold  of. 
When  it  came  to 
ie  him.'* 

)  m5re.  Then  he 
3  eyes  glowed  ter- 

1  despair,  "I  can't 
rn  my  very  heart 
ell  you,  let  Owen 
die,  J  oould  never 
I  hour,  not  a  min- 


tTNDEB  SRAX,ED   ORDBttS. 


347 


ute,  not  a  second !  He  was  a  part  of  my  life,  a 
lirsb  of  my  body.  Oh,  lone,  it's  a  sin,  it's  blas- 
phemy to  say  so — but  I  found,  when  I  put  it  to 
the  touch — oh,  shame — I  found  ...  he  was 
far  mere  to  me  than  even  Russia.  I  fancied  to 
myself  I  had  lived  all  my  life  for  Russia  alone; 
but  I  found  that  day  my  boy  was  far  more  to  me 
in  the  end  than  c  ven  Russia. 

"They  would  kill  him.  They  would  torture 
you.  They  would  keep  you  in  suspense  for 
months  and  months,  lone.  Better  an  easy  death 
for  him  at  my  hands  than  that.  Or  not  even  at 
my  hands;  at  his  own,  but  beside  me,  in  my 
company.  I  meant  him  to  go  over  first.  1 
meant  at  once  to  follow  him.  But  when  I  saw 
him  drowning,  and  was  drowning  myself,  my 
heart  failed  within  me.  I  couldn't  bear  to  per- 
mit it.  Let  them  do  what  they  worJd,  I  must 
save  Owen's  life  for  the  moment — for  you.  1 
must  prolong  it  as  much  as  I  could,  I  must 
bring  my  boy  back — for  a  time — to  the  girl  thf^i; 
loved  him." 

"Thank  you,"  lone  said  low.  In  some  dim, 
instincti  i?^e  way  she  was  beginning  now  to  un- 
derstand aim. 

Mr.  Hayward  clasped  his  hands  hard  in  un 
speakable  horror.  "But  that's  not  all  yet,"  he 
cried.  "We're  not  out  of  the  trouble.  As  I 
said  to  you  in  Victoria  Street,  so  1  say  to  you 
still,  we're  only  beginning.  I  must  put  my  wits 
to  work  now — for  what  do  you  think,  lone? 
Why,  to  undo  my  life's  work;  to  annul  my 
life's  plans;  to  prevent  the  success  of  my  own 


il 


M^ 


•  4 


./,ti 


1.' 


348 


UNDER  SEAI^BD   ORDBRfi, 


elaborate  precautions.  I  had  arranged  every- 
thing beforehand  so  that  a  terrible  punishment 
should  fall  upon  myself  or  upon  Owen,  as  the 
case  might  be,  if  either  of  ue  forgot  our  troth  or 
proved  untrue  to  our  engagements.  I  had  made 
it  as  sure  as  any  sentence  of  any  court  on  earth 
could  be  made  sure.  Now,  I  must  brace  myself 
up  to  see  whether  and  how  I  can  shatter  my  own 
hopes  and  destroy  my  own  handiwork.  .  .  . 
And  I  fear  it's  impossible.  I  laid  my  plans  too 
deep;  1  dug  my  pit  too  widely.  .  .  .  But  for 
that,  and  for  that  alone,  I  must  live  in  future 
.  .  ,  Oh,  lone,  dear  child,  see  the  extremity 
of  degradation  to  which  you  two  have  reduced 
me.  I  meant,  if  need  were,  to  sacrifice  Owen  to 
Rusoia.  I  mean  now,  in  the  end — to  sacrifice 
Russia  to  Owen." 

He  bont  his  head  down  between  his  arms  in 
an  agoay  of  shame  and  remorse  at  that  painful 
confesuion.  To  him,  it  was  apostasy,  lone 
couldn't  be  angry  with  him  now.  His  case  was 
too  miserable.  He  had  tried  to  play  an  abstrac 
tiou  against,  his  human  aflfections,  and  the  hu- 
man affections  had  proved  in  the  long  run  a 
great  deal  too  strong  for  him. 


Ur 


BRP. 

irranged  overy- 
ble  liimishment 
)n  Owen,  as  the 
•got  our  troth  or 
ts.  I  had  made 
T  court  on  earth 
ist  brace  myself 
shatter  my  own 
iwork.  .  .  , 
id  my  plans  too 
.  .  .  But  for 
i  live  in  future. 
e  the  extremity 
0  have  reduced 
kcrifice  Owen  to 
id — to  sacrifice 

en  his  arms  in 
at  that  painful 
ipostasy.  lone 
His  case  was 
lay  an  abstrac 
s,  and  the  hu- 
he  lung  run  a 


UNDER  SBIALED  ORDBBS. 


849 


'     CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

BAD      NKWS      FROM      KIEFF. 

Two  or  three  days  later  Owen  was  well 
enough  to  be  removed  to  the  flat  oflF  Victoria 
Street.  Mr.  Hay  ward  went  up  to  town  with 
him,  in  a  saloorf  carriage,  and  the  new  invalid 
was  put,  when  he  arrived  there,  into  Blackbird's 
bedroom.  Round  the  wall,  as  a  fitting  decora- 
tion, Blackbird  had  painted  with  her  own  hands 
a  poetical  inscription — four  favorite  lines  of  hers 
from  Swinburne's  "Hymn  to  Proserpine": 

"  Thou  art  tnore  than  the  day  or  the  morrow,  the  sea- 
sons that  hiugh  or  that  weep-, 

For  these  giva  joy  and  sorrow;  but  thou,  Proserpina, 
sleep. 

Thou  art  more  than  the  Gtods  who  number  the  days 
of  our  temporal  breath; 

For  these  give  labor  and  slumber;  but  thou,  Proser- 
pina, death.'' 

Owen  watched  them  all  morning  from  the  bed 
where  they  laid  him,  but  in  the  afternoon  he  was 
allowed  to  move  in  to  the  drawing-room  sofa. 
Not  that  he  was  really  ill ;  severe  as  the  shock 
had  been,  his  vigorous  constitution  recovered 
from  it  quickly;  but  Mr.  Hay  ward,  always  de- 
voted to  his  ward,  was  as  careful  over  him  now 


850 


UNDER  SEALBD  ORDBKS. 


US  a  hen  with  one  chicken.  Even  lone  herself 
had  no  cause  to  complain  of  any  want  of  con- 
sideration on  Mr.  Hay  ward's  part  for  Owen's 
safety  and  Owen's  absolute  comfort.  He  fussed 
about  as  if  his  life  depended  on  making  Owen 
well  and  keeping  him  so  always.  He  had  but 
one  thought  in  life  now — his  boy's  happiness, 
which  included,  of  course,  lone's. 

And  Russia?  Poor  Russia?  Well,  Russia 
was  crushed  and  pressed  out  within  him.  An 
awful  blank  reigned  in  her  place  in  his  heart. 
His  face  was  one  picture  of  despair  and  dejec- 
tion. 

But  the  urgent  need  now  was  to  provide  for 
Owen's  safety.  That  care  weighed  hard  on  Mr. 
Haj'ward's  soul.  For  he  had  plotted  beforehand 
against  Owen's  life  by  every  means  in  his  power. 

The  very  day  after  they  arrived  at  V4ctbria 
Street  he  sent  Blackbird  and  Sacha  out  into  tho 
Park  for  a  walk,  that  he  mighf  have  time  for  a 
private  talk  with  lone  and  Owen. 

So  strange  a  talk  few  drawiug-rooms  in  Pim- 
lico  can  often  have  listened  to. 

He  began,  and  told  them  the  truth  from  the 
very  beginning.  One  only  fact  he  suppressed — 
his  own  identity  with  Ruric  Brassoff.  All  tho 
rest  he  told  them  in  full — making  -a  clean  breast 
of  it,  as  it  were,  both  to  Owen  and  lone.  He 
tol-d  them  all  he  knew  about  the  St.  Petersburg 
SelistoflFs ;  how  he  had  rescued  the  two  childreji, 
twenty  years  since  and  more,  at  the  risk  of  his 
own  life,  and  smuggled  them  out  of  Wilna ;  how 
he  liad  brought  them  to  England  and  placed 


ittii 


DBHS. 

Iveh  lone  herself 
any  want  of  con- 
part  for  Owen's 
ifort.  He  fussed 
n  making  Owen 
ys.  He  had  but 
boy's  happiness, 
s. 

Well,  Russia 
within  him.  An 
ace  in  his  heart. 
3spair  and  dejec- 

is  to  provide  for 
bed  hard  on  Mr. 
atted  beforehand 
ns  in  his  power, 
ved  at  Victoria 
cha  out  into  the 
have  time  for  a 

J- rooms  in  Pim- 

>  truth  from  the 
he  suppressed — 
assoff.  All  tho 
g  "a  clean  breast 
and  lone.  He 
St.  Petersburg 
le  two  children, 
I  the  risk  of  his 
of  Wilna;  how 
nd  and  placed 


UNDBR  SBALBD  ORDERS. 


3&1 


them  with  Miss  Cazalet  as  their  mother's  half- 
sister;  how  he  had  come  back,  three  years  later, 
!ind  struck  that  strange  bargain  on  those  mys- 
terious terms  with  poor,  unconscious  Aunt  Julia; 
and  how  he  had  supported  Owen  ever  since,  in 
every  comfort  and  luxury — on  Nihilist  monej'". 

There  he  paused  and  wiped  his  brow. 

"And  that  money  itself,"  he  said,  slowly,  in 
very  remorseful  tones,  "do  you  think,  my  chil- 
dren, I  got  it  for  nothing?  do  you  think  there 
was  no  security,  no  collateral  guarantee  for  it? 
Ah,  that's  not  the  way  we  of  the  circle  went  to 
work  on  our  undertakings.  All  was  arranged 
and  audited,  as  if  it  were  public  funds,  with  the 
minutest  accuracy.  Part  of  it  I  earned  myself, 
to  be  sure,  and  contributed  willingly  out  of  my 
own  abundaoi^e;  for  Mortimer  &  Co,  has  always 
been  a  paying  business.  But  part  of  it  c^me 
from  Russia,  poor  bleeding  Russia;  from  trusty 
friends  of  the  Cause,  in  Petersburg  or  Moscow; 
and,  for  that,  guarantees  were  both  given  and 
exacted.  Three  persons  besides  myself  know  on 
whom  the  fund  was  spent.  One  of  them  is  in 
Paris,  the  two  others  are  in  Russia." 

"And  do  they  alone  know  of  your  plans?" 
Owen  asked,  in  breathless  suspense,  from  the 
sofa  where  ho  lay. 

"Not  they  alone.  No.  Many  subscribers  to 
our  circle  know  the  main  outline  of  the  facts; 
they  know  we  were  bringing  up  a  young  man  in 
England — Sergius  Selistoff's  son — to  follow  in  his 
father's  footsteps  as  a  martyr  to  Russia.  More 
than  that;  they  know,  also,  that  Sergius  Sells- 


'j#,;i4^^>r»t.-;i«B» ' 


^mDi^/M^f^'i^d 


i^ 


862 


UNDER  SBALTH  OKPEHS. 


toff's  SOU  was  to  obtain  ;  no  post  in  a  foreign 
capitKl  whence  be  migbt  strike  a  great  blow  at 
the  Curse  of  Russia.  But  what  they  dou't 
know" — and  Mr.  Hayvvard  lowered  his  voice 
confidentially — "what  they  don't  know  is  this: 
the  assumed  name  and  present  address  of  Ser- 
gius  Selistoff's  son,  for  whom  they  have  done  so 
much,  and  from  whom  they  expect  such  marvels. 
Three  people  alone,  besides  myself  and  you  two, 
knew  that  secret  till  lately :  four  know  it  now ; 
Madame  Mireff  is  one  of  them;  the  others,  of 
course,  are  wholly  unknown,  even  by  name  and 
fame,  to  you." 

"Madame  Mireff  is  a  friend!"  lone  exclaimed, 
with  womanly  instinct. 

"Perhaps  so.  Who  knows?"  Mr.  Hay  ward 
answered,  bowing  his  head  in  a  sudden  access  of 
shame.  "If  J  have  fallen  away,  who  may  not 
fall  away,  for  personal  motives,  from  poor,  help- 
less Russia?  But  the  other  three  hold  each  in 
their  possession  a  sealed  envelope.  That  sealed 
envelope  contains  their  orders.  It  is  to  be  opened, 
in  earh  case,  oii  either  of  two  contingencies — my 
death,  or  if,  for  three  months,  the  holders  receive 
no  communication  on  the  subjert  of  the  fund 
from  me.  And  if  I  myself  fail  fco  show  them, 
in  three  months  from  this  time;  that  Sergius 
Selistoff's  son  is  in  a  fair  way  to  follow  out  the 
teaching  I  have  bestowed  upon  him — then  the 
holders  of  those  three  envelopes  are  bound  by 
solemn  oath  never  to  rest  in  their  beds  till  they've 
taken  vengeance  on  the  traitcw— on  you, 
Cazalet." 


ivy    vo 

Owen      I 

pi 


:p.K38. 

post  in  a  foreign 
e  a  great  blow  at 
what  they  dou't 
>wered  his  voice 
I't  know  is  this: 
it  address  of  Ser- 
;hey  have  done  so 
ect  such  marvels. 
3elf  and  you  two, 
•ur  know  it  now ; 
n;  the  others,  of 
en  by  name  and 

lone  exclaimed, 

"  Mr.  Hay  ward 
sudden  access  of 
ly,  who  may  not 
from  poor,  help- 
iree  hold  each  in 
30.  That  sealed 
[t  is  ta  be  opened, 
atingencies—my 
9  holders  receive 
erfc  of  the  fund 
I  to  show  them, 
le;  that  Sergius 
)  follow  out  tho 
I  him—then  the 
8  are  bound  by 
beds  till  they've 
-on  you,  Owen 


tTNDBR  SEALED  ORDERS. 


There  was  a  silence  in  the  room.  Mr.  Hay- 
ward  still  bent  his  htod.  Then,  at  last,  as  with 
a  burst  of  inspiration,  lone  spoke. 

"Can't  you  get  those  envelopes  back?"  she 
asked.  "Can't  .  .  .  the  Russian  police  .  .  . 
since  Owen  won't  act  .  .  .  help  you  to  get  them 
back  again?" 

The  two  men,  in  their  utter  horror,  started 
unanimously  from  their  seats  and  gazed  at  one 
another,  speechless.  Owen  was  the  first  to  find 
words. 

"What!  betray  them,"  he  cried,  "for  one's 
own  base  life,  to  the  spies  of  the  Czar— these 
men  who  have  befriended  me !  Save  one's  neck 
by  handing  them  over  to  the  mines  of  Siberia !  Oh, 
lone,  you  can't  have  realized  what  your  words 
really  ipean.  Better  death,  ten  thousand  times 
over — an  honest  man's  death — than  such  perfidy 
as  that.  I  can  die,  if  I  must ;  but  sell  my  com- 
rades— never!" 

Mr.  Hayward  laid  his  hand  on  the  younger 
man's  shoulder.  His  face  was  flushed  with 
pride. 

"Owen,  my  boy,"  he  said,  gravely,  "I  see 
you  haven't  forgotten  quite  all  that  I  taught 
you.  I've  a  plan  of  my  own,  though,  far  bet- 
ter than  lone's.  No  treachery — no  apostasy.  I 
shall  try  what  I  can  do  with  the  holders  of  those 
envelopes.  I  mean  to  preserve  you,  if  it's  pos- 
sible to  preserve  you  without  treason  to  the  Cause. 
You  know  yourself,  if  our  men  were  once  well  on 
your  track,  no  power  on  earth  could  save  your 
life.     All  the  strength  ol  the  empire  didn't  avail 


8fi4 


UNDER  SBALKD  QKDVRii. 


' !  .  ■  I 


to  save  Alexander  Nioolaievitob.  But  I  shall  go 
oflf  myself,  at  once ;  first  to*  Paris,  then  to  Kieff , 
then  to  Moscow  and  Petersbvirg.  I'll  see  these 
three  men;  I'll  endeavof  to  get  from  them  those 
incriminating  documents.  No  human  soul  but 
ourselves  shall  ever  know  who  was  Sergius  Selis- 
toff's  son.  If  I  die  for  it  myself,  I  shall  get  the 
sealed  orders  back  from  them."  ^ 

Owen  floized  his  friend's  arm. 

"To  Kieff  I  To  Moscow!"  he  cried,  aghast, 
knowing  well  what  they  meant.  "You  won't 
surely  expose  yourself — no,  no — not  in  Russia!" 

"Yea,  in  Russia!"  Mr.  HayWnrd  jinswnred, 
with  a  calmly  dogged  fa(5e.  "For  twenty  years 
I've  avoided  my  country  for  my  country's  suke. 
I  had  hopeo  so  to  save  her.  Now  those  hopes  are 
all  wrecked.  For  your  sake  I'll  revisit  her.  I'll 
not  rest,  day  or  night,  till  I've  got  the  papers 
back  again.  .  .  .  No,  don't  try  to  stop  me.  To 
Russia  I'll  go,  Owen,  though  all  the  sp^es  in 
Petersburg  should  know  I  was  going  there; 
though  all  the  devils  in  hell  should  conspire  to 
prevent  me."  ,, 

Again  there  was  a  pause.  Then  Mr.  Hay  ward 
spoke  once  more. 

"I  brought  you  into  this  scrape,"  he  said,  "and 
I  must  see  you  well  out  of  it — if  that's  still  pos- 
sible. Owen,  my  boy,  I  admit  I  did  wrong. 
You  were  a  child  when  I  made  this  bargain  on 
your  accouiit.  Now  you're  a  man,  and  can  see 
what  it  all  means  and  know  how  to  choose  for 
yourself,  you've  a  right  to  back  out  of  it.  Even 
if  I  give  lip  my  life  now,  to  release  you  from 


^st.f,*i«B4?*.-a««»?^i'iS!«Lae4»*««'<«^^ 


But  I  shall  go 
8,  then  to  Kieff, 
I'll  see  these 
:rom  them  those 
luman  soul  but 
1,8  Sergius  Selis- 
,  I  shall  get  the 


cried,  aghast, 
"You  won't 
lot  in  Russia!" 
vnn]  nnswored, 
sr  twenty  years 
country's  sake, 
those  hopes  are 
revisit  her.  I'll 
got  the  papers 

0  stop  me.  To 
11  the  spies  in 
i  going  there; 
luld  conspire  to 

1  Mr.  Hay  ward 

"he said,  "and 
that's  still  pos- 
I  did  wrong, 
jhis  bargain  on 
m,  and  can  see 
V  to  choose  for 
it  of  it.  Even 
ease  you  from 


UNDER  8BALBD  ORDERS. 


856 


the  bargain  you  never  wittingly  made,  it  may 
be  of  no  avail.  But  I  tvill  give  it  up  if  need  be. 
I'll  do  my  best  to  protect  you." 

Owen  took  his  hand  warmly. 

"Dear,  dear  Mr.  Haywanl,"  he  said,  with  pro- 
found emotion,  "don't  trust  youi-self  in  Russia 
on  my  account,  I  beg  of  you.  I'd  rather  let  this 
fate  hang  over  me,  whatever  it  maj'  be,  than 
think  for  a  moment  you  should  so  risk  and  expose 
yourself." 

But  he  had  to  reckon  with  a  woman  as  well, 
lone  rose,  passionately,  and  flung  herself  upon 
Mr.  Hayward's  neck.  Then  she  spoke  out  with 
tremulous  haste. 

"No,  go,  Mr.  Hay  ward,"  she  cried,  quiver- 
ing, and  flinging  to  him  in  her  earnestness. 
"You  owe  it  to  him.  It's  your  duty.  I,  who 
love  him,  ask  you  ti)  go.  You  owe  it  to  me,  too. 
He's  uiino  more  than  yours,  V"ou  admit  you  did 
wrong.  You  must  be  just,  then,  and  protect 
him." 

Mr.  Hayward,  unwinding  her  ininH,  took  her 
hand  in  his  own,  still  grasping  Owen's  with  the 
other  one. 

"Yes,  I'll  go,  my  children. "  he  answered.  "My 
life's  wrecked.  I  have  but  one  hope,  one  wish, 
on  earth  now — to  make  you  two  happy." 

"And  while  you're  gone,"  Owen  said,  gravely, 
"I,  too,  shall  have  a  task  to  perform — to  set  about 
earning  my  own  livelihood  at  last,  and  repaying 
the  Cause  uU  I  owe  to  Russia." 

Mr.  Hayward  was  just  about  to  answer  some- 
thing, when  a  ring  at  the  bell  roused  lone  auto- 


,*sr.y 


856 


UMDKR  SBAUBD  OBDIUS. 


inatically.'    As  hoiiHemHid  of  the  flnt,  she  f UBhed 
out  to  answer  it. 

"A  telegram  for  yon,  Mr.  Hay  ward,"  she 
Huid,  returning.  He  lore  it  open  ou  the  spot 
and  read  it,  eagerly. 

'  "Just  arriveii  acroas  the  German  frontier. 
Couldn't  communicate  before.  Am  returning 
now  post-haste  to  England.  Very  serious  news. 
Ossinsky  arrested  ton  days  ago  at  Kieff.  All  is 
known,  except  the  English  name  of  Sergius  Selis- 
toflf's  son.  That  they  can't  find  out.  But  the 
danger  is  great.  Smuggle  him  away  at  once, 
for  Heaven's  sake.  Oloa  Mirbff." 

Mr.  Hayward  handed  it  across  to  them  with- 
out one  word  of  comment.  Ions  looked  blankly 
at  it,  while  Owen  read  aloud  the  secret  cipher. 
Mr.  Hayward  stood  awestruck.  As  soon  as 
they'd  finished,  he  said  but  a  few  words  with 
blanched  and  trembling  Tips. 

"I  must  go  this  evening.  .  .  .  Ossinsky  v/'as 
one  of  them." 

"To  Moscow?"  Owen  asked. 

"No,  first  of  all  to  Paris.  Once  I  get  to 
Russia,  I  may  never  come  back  again ;  so  I  must 
settle  Paris  first.  But  there's  no  time  to  be  lost. 
I'll  telegraph  to  Olga  to  await  me  in  Berlin;  and 
I'll  start  for  Paris  this  very  evening." 


DKK8. 

e  flat,  she  rushed 

Hay  ward,"  she 
pen  on  the  spot 


Jerinan  frontier. 
Am  retaming 
)ry  serious  news, 
at  Kieff.  All  is 
of  Serglus  Selis- 
id  out.  But  the 
1  away  at  once, 

.a A   MiRBPF." 

8  to  them  with- 

9  looked  blankly 
le  secret  cipher, 
k.  As  soon  as 
few  words  with 

.  Ossinsky  vras 


Once  I  get  to 
gain ;  so  I  must 
'  time  to  be  lost. 
9  in  Berlin ;  and 
ing."      • 


a.^a.K'ii^'i  jc'^'Sa-jT.'*- 


tTMDKB  SEALED  ORDBB8. 


Wf 


;*<.        CHAPTER  XXXIX. 
.*i,;*      fortune's  wheel. 

True  to  his  word,  Mr.  Hayward  left  that 
eveuing  by  the  night  mail  for  Paris.  As  soon 
as  he  was  gone,  a  blank  fell  upon  the  party. 
After  the  cumulative  excitement  of  the  last  few 
weeks,  it  seemed  almost  impossible  for  them  to 
settle  down  once  more  to  the  humdrum  routine 
of  everyday  life — the  "domastic  round  of  roast 
and  boiled,"  as  Blackbird  loved  to  call  it.  Con- 
versation languished ;  platitudes  palled ;  common 
events  seemed  tame^  even  Tone's  bright  heart 
felt  the  lack  of  some  more  pressing  stimulus. 
They  had  grown  accustomed  to  the  feverish  sub- 
peose  of  nihilistic  life;  this  long  waiting  for 
news  from  Pai-is,  KiefS,  or  Moscow  struck  thea\ 
as  dull  and  monotonous  after  those  pungent  epi- 
sodes of  the  lasher  and  the  sealed  envelopeB. 
Only  the  doubt  as  to  the  future  kept  them  on  the 
qui  vive  now.  Would  Mr,  Hayward  succeed  or 
fail  in  his  momentous  enterprise? — that  was  the 
question. 

Meanwhile,  however,  Owen  began  to  realize 
still  more  definitely  and  clearly  than  ever  that  he 
ought  to  be  doing  something  for  his  own  liveli- 


1' 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


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23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

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CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

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CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


•  If 


358 


UNI>»B  SEALED  ORDERS. 


if    . 


hoocl.  It  was  impassible  be  could  any  longer  de- 
pend uix)ri  Mr.  Hay  ward;  still  more  impossible 
that  he  could  draw  further  on  Aunt  Julia's  scanty 
private  income.  So  he  settled  down  for  the  time 
in  Sacha's  rooms,  intent  on  the  favorite  and  in- 
dispensable operation  of  looking  about  him.  But 
looking  about  one,  though  a  very  good  occupa- 
tiou  in  its  way,  as  a  change  from  overwork,  is  a 
mode  of  life  that  soon  wearies  and  sates  a  vigor- 
ous y^oung  intelligence.  Owen  found  it  unsat- 
isfactory in  the  very  first  week,  and  longed  for 
some  more  active  and  remunerative  employment. 
Yet  he  might  have  gone  on  indefinitely  looking 
about  him  all  in  vain  for  months  tngother— so 
thronged  with  suitors  is  every  gate  in  London — 
but  for  an  accident  that  occurred  a  few  days 
later  to  Trevar  Gardener. 

They  were  sitting  one  afternoon  "n  the  draw- 
ing-room of  the  fiat — lone  and  Ov  eu  very  ab- 
sorbed and  moody,  thinking  over  the  chances  of 
Mr.  Hayward's  mission,  and  the  reason  of  his 
silendb;  Sacha  working  away  at  "cooking"  a 
sketch;  Blackbird  hanging  over  the  piano,  and 
trying  a  chord  or  two  at  a  time  in  the  throes  of 
composition — when  a  latch-key  turned  quickly 
in  the  front  door  of  the  suite,  and  Trevor  Gar- 
dener looked  in,  deadly  white  and  terrified. 

"Is  Sacha  here?"  he  asked,  holding  the  door 
ajar.  "I  beg  your  pardon  for  coming  like  this, 
but  I  want  to  speak  with  her." 

Sacha  rose  and  gave  him  her  hand.  "Come 
into  the  studio,"  she  said,  trembling  suddenly. 
And  Trevor  Gardener  followed  her. 


IRS. 

any  longer  de- 
iiore  impossible 
it  Julia's  scanty 
wu  for  the  time 
(■iivorite  and  iu- 
bout  him.     But 
■y  good  ocoupa- 
i  overwork,  is  a 
d  sates  a  vigor- 
ound  it  unsat- 
ind  longed  for 
v^o  employment, 
finitely  looking 
18  together— so 
te  in  London — 
ed  a  few  days 

5n    n  the  draw- 
Ov  en  very  ab- 

the  chances  of 
»  reason  of  his 
t  "cooking"   a 

the  piano,  and 
n  the  throes  of 
iurned  quickly 
ad  Trevor  Gar- 
[  terrified. 
)lding  the  door 
mjiig  like  this, 


band.     "Come 
ling  suddenly. 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


369 


As  they  reached  the  room,  ho  shut  the  door 
and  looked  at  her,  fixed  and  white.  "Oh, 
Sacha,"  he  said  abruptly,  taking  her  hind  in 
his  own,  "how  lucky  it  was,  the  other  day,  after 
all,  you  didn't  accept  me!" 

"Why  to?"  Sacha  asked,  glancing  up  into  his 
face  trustfully,  and  letting  her  hand  lie  in  his; 
for  she  had  learned  by  this  iime  to  love  him  with 
all  her  heart.  "Oh,  Trevor,  what's  the  matter? 
Something  dreadful  has  happened !" 

"No,  nothing  very  dreadful,"  the  young  man 
answered,  with  blanched  lips  that  belieu  his 
words.  "At  least,  not  when  you're  accustomed 
to  it.  .  .  .  But  why  lucky?  ....  Well,  Sacha, 
just  for  this  excellent  reason — and  I'm  so  thank- 
ful you  said  no  to  me-  -because,  if  you'd  said 
yes,  you'd  have  accepted  a  beggar." 

Sacha  laid  one  soothing  hand  on  his  shoulder 
and  smiled.  Yes,  positively  smiled.  Such  a 
thing  it  is  to  be  bora  a  Rus.sian,  or  half  one. 
Those  people  have  no  idea  of  the  importance  of 
Money!  ■■       .% .         .--..' 

"Something  gone  wrong  in  the  City?"  she 
asked,  almost  pleased  as  it  seemed  to  hira. 

Trevor  Gardener  winced  and  nodded.  "Yes, 
something  gone  wrong,"  he  said.  "No,  every- 
tliing  gone  wrong,  rather.  And  so  terribly,  so 
terribly!  You  could  never  understand  it.  My 
partner  Wilson — oh,  Sacha!  such  a  blow — not 
for  myself,  I  don't  mean,  not  for  myself,  of 
course;  but  for  our  clients  wlu  trusted  us." 

"What  has  he  done?"  Sacha  asked,  with  a 
strange  feeling  in  her  tlu-oat  which  was  cer- 


'.:') 


tainly  not  altogether  either  sympathy  or  sor- 
row. 

' '  Done !"  Trevor  answered,  gasping.  ' '  What's 
he  done!  Wliy,  everything.  What's  he  not 
done's  more  like  it.  Embezzleti,  mismanaged, 
over  -  speculated,  gambled,  falsified  account.«*, 
stolen  clients'  money,  invented  imaginary  stocks 
for  country  clergymen  and  confiding  old  ladies; 
committeti  every  crime  a  rascally  partner  could 
possibly  be  guilty  of.  It  only  came  out  this 
morning.  And  now  he's  gone  away,  leaving  a 
note  behind  to  tell  me  he  means  to  cut  his  own 
throat,  and  shuflQing  upon  me  the  responsibility 
of  meeting  the  firm's  engagements." 

"Has  he  any  private  means?"  Saoha  asked, 
anxious  to  know  the  worst  at  once.  ---'■:.';.<}•'' 
'Not  a  penny,  as  far  as  I  can  learn.  He's 
gambled  away  everything.  All  his  own  stocks 
are  gone,  and  his  wife's,  and  his  father-in-law's; 
as  for  his  house  at  Wimbledon,  that's  a  mere  drop 
in  the  bucket.  I  haven't  realized  the/uU  extent 
of  his  defalcations  as  yet.  But  at  the  very  best 
— and  fresh  things  are  turning  up  every  minute 
-  -my  capital  and  investments  must  go  to  cover 
it,  and  even  then  the  firm  will  be  hopelessly 
bankrupt.  Ten  shillings  in  the  pound  will  be 
the  outside  dividend." 

Sacha  gazed  a'o  him,  undismayed.  "Then 
you  are  a  poor  man  now,  Trevor!"  she  cried, 
flushing  crimson.  "You  haven't  a  penny  to 
bless  yourself  with!" 

"Not  a  penny  to  bless  myself  with!"  Trevor 
responded  grimly. 


>KUS. 

rmpathy  or  sor- 

iping.  "What's 
What's  he  not 
ii,  mismanaged, 
sified  aocounte, 
maginary  stocks 
kiing  old  ladies; 
ly  partner  could 
'  came  out  this 
awaj%  leaving  a 
18  to  out  his  own 
he  responsibility 
Its." 

Saoha  asked, 
ice. 
L'an  learn.     He's 

I  his  own  stocks 
J  father-in-law's; 
bat's  a  mere  drop 
>d  the  .full  extent 
at  the  very  best 
Lip  every  minute 
nust  go  to  cover 

II  be  hopelessly 
3  pound  will  be 

nayed.  "Then 
mr!"  she  cried, 
in't  a  penny  to 

with!"  Trevor 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


361 


In  the  tumult  of  passionate  joy,  Sacha  flung 
her  arms  round  his  neck.  "Dear  Trevor,"  she 
murmured  very  low,  "ther^  at  laef  I  may  love 
you." 

"May  love  me?"  Trevor  echoed,  amazed. 

"Yes — and  marry  you,  now,  Trevor!" 

She  said  it  tenderly,  joyfully,  with  deep  ear- 
nestness in  her  quivering  voice.  Trevor  gazed  at  . 
her  and  sighed.  She  was  a  wonderful  woman  1 
"But  why  now,  if  not  before,  Sacha?"  he  asked, 
all  bewildered.  To  him,  good  solid,  sober- 
minded,  commercial  Englishman,  this  blow  had 
sr  .med  like  a  death-knell  of  all  hin  hopes  in  life. 
He  had  been  thankful  for  one  thing  only — that 
Sacha  hadn't  accepted  him. 

But  Sacha,  for  her  part,  still  clinging  to  him 
in  lior  joy,  said  firmly  and  resolutely,  "Before, 
you  were  rich,  dear,  and  1  wouldn't  marry  a 
rich  man,  on  whom  I  must  be  dependent.  Now, 
you're  poor  —oh,  so  poor— why,  much  poorer 
than  myself — and  I  can  marry  you  to-morrow 
with  no  loss  of  my  pride— for  I'm  making  a  big- 
ger income  every  month  of  late,  Trevor;  and  if 
you  can  put  up  with  small  things,  why,  we'll 
marry  at  once,  and  you  may  begin  life  over 
again." 

,  The  young  man  started  back  in  dismay.  "Oh, 
no,  darling,"  he  cried,  astonished.  "How  could 
I  ever  do  that?  I'm  a  man;  you're  a  v/oman. 
You  said  to  me  that  day  on  the  downs  at  Moor 
Hill  you  wouldn't  marry  any  one  who  was  richer 
than  yourself,  because  you  didn't  want  to  be  like 
the  women  who  sell  themselves  for  the  pittance 


.w 


'•"ij 


362 


UNI>ER  SEALED  ORDBRui. 


T 


of  a  livelihood.  Your  creed  was  the  perfect 
equality  of  the  sexes  and  you  wouldn't  go  back 
upon  it.  Well,  thon,  if  you,  who  are  a  woman, 
couldn't  be  dependent  upon  a  man,  how  can  I, 
who  am  a  man,  he  dependent  upon  a  woman?" 

He  said  it  manfully,  honestly,  with  big  open 
eyes.  Sacha  iiaused  a  moment  and  reflected ;  his 
argument  caught  her  napping.  She  drummed 
her  fingers  on  the  table  to  assist  her  thought. 

At  first  hearing,  this  certainly  sounded  like  a 
genuine  dilemma.  Yet  she  knew  it  wasn't  in- 
superable. Then  slowly,  by  degrees,  she  felt  her 
way  out  of  it.  "No,  it's  not  quite  the  same," 
she  said  in  her  deliberate,  logical  fashion.  "The 
cases  aren't  parallel .  And  I'll  tell  you  the  differ- 
ence. Women  till  now  have  all  Ijeen  naturally 
dependent  upon  men;  it's  been  taken  for  grantetl 
they  must  be  paupers  and  hangers-on.  And  each 
of  them  has  been  dependent  upon  a  particular 
man,  his  slave  and  his  chattel.  That's  a  system 
I  hate,  and  I  don't  want  to  perpetuate  it.  "There- 
fore,  I  stood  out  against  marrying  a  man  much 
richer  than  myself — even  though  I  loved  him — 
beside  whose  wealth  my  little  earnings  would 
be  as  nothing  in  the  family.  That  was  my  wo- 
manly pride.  It's  quite  different  with  men. 
They've  no  inequality  to  redress,'  no  principle 
to  vindicate.  If  a  woman  can  help  them  at  a 
pinch  to  re-establish  their  fortunes,  why  not  avail 
themselves  of  the  chance — and  make  her  happy?" 
She  looked  up  into  his  face,  a  tender  look,  with 
those  great  trustful  eyes  of  hers,  as  she  said  the 
last  words.     In  spite  of  bankruptcy  and  ruin, 


A-J\ 


vas  the  perfect 
uldu't  go  back 

0  are  a  woman, 
lan,  how  can  I, 
wn  a  woman?" 

with  big  open 
id  reflected;  his 

She  drummed 
ler  tiiought. 
aoujided  like  a 
w  it  wasn't  in- 
ees,  she  felt  her 
lite  the  same," 
fashion.     "The 

1  you  the  diflfer- 
been  naturally 

.ken  for  granted 
-on.  And  each 
)on  n  particular 
rhat's  a  system 
late  it.  There- 
;  a  man  much 
I  loved  him — 
jarnings  would 
lat  was  my  wo- 
mt  with  men. 
8,'  no  principle 
help  tiiem  at  a 
1,  why  not  avail 
ke  her  happy?" 
ider  look,  with 
as  she  said  the 
)tcy  and   ruin,. 


UNDER  BEA.1.KD   ORDERS. 


368 


Trevor  Gardener  thrilled  through  and  through  at 
her  touch  as  she  raised  his  hand  to  her  lips,  and 
laid  her  head,  all  unbidden,  in  the  hollow  of  his* 
ehoulder.  "Trevor,"  she  murmured  once  more, 
very  low  and  soft,  "you  were  ready  to  marry  me 
when  you  were  rich  and  successful  and  could 
have  given  me  everything  that  heart  can  desire. 
See — I  ask  you  myself  to-day :  won't  you  marry 
me  now  you're  poor  and  distressed  and  disheart- 
ened, and  let  me  fight  the  battle  of  life  with  you 
for  your  help  and  comfort?" 

It  wasn't  in  human  nature  that  Trevor  Gar- 
dener at  such  words  shouldn't  bend  down,  enrap- 
tured, to  kiss  those  liquid  eyes,  swimming  with 
rare  tears,  and  those  thoughtful  thin  lips,  held 
appealingly  up  toward  him.  "Sacha,  darling," 
he  said  with  a  burst,  soothing  her  hair  with  his 
hand,  "if  for  a  moment  I  say  no  to  you,  trust 
me,  it  isn'u  that  I  love  you  less — it's  that  I  re- 
spect you  more.  I  can't  bear  to  be  a  drag  upon 
you,  to  make  you  share  my  poverty.  I  wanted 
to  marry  you,  that  I  might  iind  you  such  luxuries 
and  let  you  live  in  such  comfort.  But  now  I 
should  only  hinder  you.  And  I  can't  bear  to 
say  yes  to  you — though  you  ask  me  so  sweetly." 

"You  shall  say  yes,"  Sacha  answered  with 
fervor,  all  the  latent  passion  and  earnestness  of 
her  half-Russian  nature  coming  out  in  full  force 
at  this  faltering  opposition.  "I  love  you,  Tre- 
vor, I  love  you ;  and  you  shall  say  yes  to  me. 
I  want  to  fight  this  battle  with  you ;  I  want  to 
retrieve  this  loss;  I  want  to  be  of  use  to  you— a 
pillar,  a  staff,  a  prop,  a  help  to  you.     Money  1 


iH 


mi 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDBKd. 


AVhy,  darling,  when  you  were  rich  I  couldn't 
bpHr  to  tako  you,  among  other  things,  because  I 
^ don't  know  whether  it's  right  for  some  of  us  to 
have  so  much,  when  others  have  so  little.  I 
was  shocked  and  afraid  when  you  told  me  how 
many  thousands  you  made  a  year.  But  if 
you're  poor  now,  I  want  you,  I  long  for  you, 
I  ask  3'ou,  I  must  have  you."  She  flung  her 
soft  arms  wildly  round  his  neck  once  more,  and 
burst  into  a  sudden  flood  of  fiercely  passionate 
tears.  He  could  liardly  believe  this  was  Hacha. 
The  pent  up  emotion  of  months  found  full  vent 
all  at  once.  "Oh,  promise  me  you'll  take  me, 
darling,"  she  cried,  clinging  to  him  with  all  her 
soul.  "Promise  me,  promise  mo  you'll  take  me; 
you'll  marrj'  me!"  '      •.-  "-;. 

Trevor  Gardener  was  a  man ;  and  men  usually 
find  it  difficult  to  say  no  to  anything,  when  a 
woman  asks  them  outright  for  it.  And  besides, 
he  lovQd  her.  He  loved  and  admired  her  with 
all  hia  heart  and  soul.  Yet  even  so,  he  tried 
hard  for  a  moment  to  stand  out,  for  manly  dig- 
nity's sake. 

"When  this  bankruptcy's  arranged — "  he  said, 
feebly,  pressing  her  tight  to  his  breast — a  bad  mo- 
ment for  negotiations.  "When.  .  .  I've  retrieved 
my  position  a  bit,  Sacba.  When  I  can  earn  an 
income."  •■*    ■'  ■■  :^'>,i:—-^f^ijAp^t::^:<nS.     ■ 

"No,  now!"  Sacha  cried  fervently — that  placid 
Sacha— flinging  herself  upon  him  at  last  with  the 
utter  self-abandonment  of  a  good  wornan  in  a 
crisis  that  demands  it.  "Now,  at  once,  just  as 
things  stand.     Ymi  must!    You  shall,  Trevor. 


>BKd. 

rich   I  couldn't 

hings,  because  I 
for  some  of  uh  to 
ave  HO  little.  I 
ou  tohl  rue  how 
II  year.  But  it 
I  long  for  you, 
She  flung  her 
:  once  more,  and 
jrcely  passionate 

this  was  8acha. 
i  found  full  vent 

you'll  take  me, 
him  with  all  her 
J  you'll  take  me; 

and  men  usually 
nything,  when  a 
t.  And  besides, 
Imired  her  with 
iven  so,  he  tried 
,  for  manly  dig- 

iged— "  he  said, 
•east — a  bad  mo- 
.  .I've retrieved 
m'  I  can  earn  an 

itly — that  placid 
1  at  last  with  the 
od  woman  in  a 
at  once,  just  as 
I  shall,  Trevor. 


UNDKR  SEALED  ORDERS. 


965 


To  show  my  confidniico  in  you,  your  trust  in  me' 
Not  a  duy  must  wo  wait  I  To-morrow!  Tj- 
morrow!" 

It  was  some  minutes  before  thoy  wcmt  buck  to 
the  others  in  thedrnwing-room.  Whon  tho>''did 
so,  Sacha's  dignified  face  was  very  flushed  anil 
reil  with  not  unbecoming  blushes,  and  she  wore 
in  her  breast  a  single  dropping  gardenia,  the  very 
last  gardenia  Trevor  Gardener  was  ever  to  buy 
for  his  own  fidoriimont.  As  she  entered  the  room, 
both  lone  and  Blackbird  noticed  the  unwonted 
token  and  glanced  at  it  significantly,  with  in- 
quiring eyes. 

"What  does  it  mean?"  Sacha  said,  interpret- 
ing their  unspoken  thoughts  aright,  and  answer- 
ing them  frankly.  "It  means  that  dear  Trevor's 
been  ruined  by  his  partner's  dishonesty — and 
that  therefore  there's  no  reason  why  he  and  I 
shouldn't  bo  married  as  soon  as  ever  we  can  get 
the  banns  published."   .;    -v  >  •  •  .  .>/ 


>« 


i---'.  ^r     -■A  .,■    «- 


•^'  .■^'■•.;^i:'---, 


,^   .ii?;  vv!.,  ^■■•-;  -''.  .^U-.'  -  '-•■. 


8«6 


UMDEK  SEALED  ORDERd. 


IV-  \ 

F'i "  / 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE   Hid  HER   EDUCATION   OF   WOMEN. 

A  bankruptcy's  a  loug  and  weary  businesa; 
and  before  Trevor  Gfardener  was  well  out  of  the 
wood,  a  good  many  things  had  had  time  to 
happen. 

Among  others,  a  day  or  two  later,  a  short  note 
came  for  Owen,  in  cipher,  from  Mr.  Hayward, 
at  Paris.     It  said  simply  this : 


V^r 


"With  great  diificulty,  my  dear  boy,  I've  suc- 
ceeded in  recovering  the  first  of  the  sealed  en- 
velopes fi'om  my  trusted  friend  over  here;  but 
only,  I'm  sorry  to  say,  by  a  transparent  ruse, 
which  he  resents  intensely.  This  may  greatly 
embarrass  vis.  He  knows  or  guesses  from  my 
action  that  Sergins  Selistoff's  s^n  must  have  re- 
fused his  trust  or  gone  back  upon  his  bargain, 
and  that  I'm  trying  now  to  cover  Lis  retreat  by 
counteracting  my  own  most  elab:)rate  precautions. 
My  fear  is,  therefore,  that  he  may  write  to  my 
other  friend  at  Moscow,  to  warn  him  of  my  de- 
fection; in  which  case,  the  envelope  may  perhaps 
be  opened  before  I  reach  there.  If  so,  my  boy — 
I  can't  conceal  the  facts  from  you — you  are  sim- 


ma. 


UflDRR   SEALED   ORDERS. 


867 


r   WOMEN. 

v^eary  businesH; 
well  out  of  the 
d  had  time   to 

^r,  a  short  uoto 
Mr.  Hayward, 


r  boy,  I've  suc- 
the  Healed  en- 
over  here;  but 
nsparent  ruse, 
is  may  greatly 
esses  from  my 
must  liave  re- 
)n  his  bargain, 
'  liis  retreat  by 
te  precautions. 
y  write  to  my 
liim  of  my  do- 
e  may  perhaps 
:  80,  my  boy — 
—you  are  sim- 


ply doomed.  But  1  will  hope  for  the  best.  Give 
my  love  to  lono.  I  start,  if  posffil)le,  for  Riinsia 
to-morrow.  These  may  be  the  very  last  lines  you 
will  ev(»r  ri'coive  from 

"Your  affectionate  and  penitent  friend  and 
guardian,  Lamueut  Haywahd." 

Owen  fO(!eived  this  lett«r  with  very  mingled 
feelings.  It  was  satisfm-tory  tis  far  as  it  went, 
no  doubt,  that  one  more  chance  of  Nihilist  re- 
venge should  be  curtailed  or  destroyed ;  but,  on 
the  other  hand,  tlio  deep  sense  of  being  a  traitor 
to  the  Cause  himself,  and  of  having  induced  oven 
Mr.  Hayward  to  turn  traitor,  too,  sat  heavily 
upon  him.  His  one  consolation  lay  in  the 
thought  that  lone  was  pleased,  and  that  she 
felt  perfect  confidence  in  Mr.  Ilayward'e  powers 
to  prevent  further  mischief  when  once  he  got  to 
Russia. 

Even  liefore  Trevor  Gardener's  bankruptcy, 
however,  had  been  finalh'  disposed  of,  it  was 
fully  settled  that  the  penniless  stock-ljroker  wjis 
to  marry  Sacha  at  once;  and  after  their  mar- 
riage, he  and  Owen  were  to  start  a  now  business 
together,  at  first  in  Owen's  name  alone,  on  a 
scheme  that  Sacha  had  long  been  turning  over 
in  her  head — a  co-operative  picture-dealer's,  for 
selling  works  of  art  on  joint  terms  with  the 
artists.  Sacha  was  prepared  out  of  her  little 
savings  to  find  at  once  the  preliminary  capital ; 
and  as  rooms  were  obtained  in  connection  with 
Mr,  Hay  ward's  premises  in  Bond  Street,  they 
bad  good  hopes  at  the  start  of  a  successful  ven- 


868 


tNDEK   SBAI.BD   ORDERS. 


S/ff^i 


tare.  Saclm  had  a  large  acquaintance  among 
painters,  botli  men  and  women,  and  diose  with 
caro  the  co-uporutorH  wlio  wore  to  share  their  at- 
tempt. Trevor  Oardenor,  on  the  other  hand,  had 
a  huge  ac(i[uaintam;o  am^ng  the  picture-buying 
chws,  whom  ho  (H)uhl  iuflnoDce  by  his  judgment; 
whih>  Owou'h  Htriking  a|)pe!iran(;e  ajid  fame  as 
an  atlih'te  might  attra^it  from  tlie  outset,  they 
hoped,  «)ut  of  pure  curioHity,  a  certafn  amount 
of  custom.  Nor,  iih  a  matter  of  fact,  were  they 
di8a))pointed.  This  is  an  ago  of  well-bred  com- 
mercial ventures.  The  business  from  the  very 
first  was  a  decided  success;  and  before  many 
mouths  were  over,  when  Trevor's  affairs  were 
Bettlod,  they  found  themselves  already  making 
a  tolerable  profit. 

Nor  did  Trevor's  affairs  turn  out  quite  so  black 
in  the  end  «i8  he  at  first  had  feared.  True,  the  as- 
sets didn't  cover  more  than  sixteen  shillings  in  the 
pound ;  but  that  was  l)etter  than  the  ten  of  his 
earliest  calculations;  and  when  all  was  over  the 
ruined  man  made  up  his  mind  bravely  to  begin 
life  over  again  and  work  hard  for  rehabitation 
till  he  could  return  his  creditors  in  full  the  de- 
ficit caused  by  his  partner's  dishonesty.  Mean- 
while, he  and  Sacha  were  married,  after  all, 
and  took  up  their  abode  together- in  the  flat  off 
Victoria  Street. 

Not  so  long  after,  it  occurred  casually  to  Hen- 
ley Stokes  one  morning  at  Pump  Court  to  stroll 
round  once  more  for  a  further  appeal  to  Black- 
bird's feelings.  This  shilly-shallying  irked  him. 
If  marriages  were  to  be  the  order  of  the  day  in 


BRS. 

lintance  among 
and  choHe  with 

0  eharo  their  at- 
other  hand,  had 

picturo-buying 
y  his  judgment; 
CO  and  fame  as 
the  outset,  they 
cortam  amouut 

fact,  were  they 
'  well-bred  cora- 

1  from  the  very 
id  before  many 
r's  affairs  were 
ilready  making 

it  quite  so  black 
[.  True,  the  as- 
a  shilliugs  in  the 
1  the  tea  of  his 
all  was  over  the 
jravely  to  begin 
for  rehabitation 
•s  in  full  the  de- 
ouesty.  Mean- 
•ried,  after  all, 
ar-in  the  flat  off 

asually  to  Hon- 
[)  Court  to  stroll 
ppeal  to  Black- 
^ing  irked  him. 
er  of  the  day  in 


UNDMR   SKAl.CT)    OKPEBS. 


860 


the  phalanstery  of  the  flat— hang  it  all,  why 
shouldn't  he,  too,  bear  his  part  v.\  the  modest 
pageant?  So,  drcK  ing  himself  very  spick  and 
span  in  his  best  fr(K-k  coat,  witli  theusiin!  orchid 
neatly  pinned  in  his  button-hole,  he  sallied  fortli 
to  Victoria  Street,  determined  this  time  that 
Blackbird  shouM  exi)l)iin  herself  and  the  mys- 
terious reason  why,  though  she  loved  him,  slut 
wouldn't  marry  him.  He  would  be  put  off  with 
no  subterfuges;  he  must  get  at  the  vez-y  core  of 
his  lady-love's  objoo\ion. 

His  touch  at  the  e'lectric  boll  was  answered,  as 
usual,  by  lone,  all  in  her  morning  dross. 

• '  Is  Bla(;kbird  a z  hom« "' "  the  y oimg  man  asked, 

eagerly. 

"Well— yes,"  lone  admitted,  in  somew  lat 
dubious  tones,  "But  I  don't  quite  know 
whether  she'll  see  yon  or  not,  To  tell  you 
the  trath,  Henley,  just  of  late  Blackbird's  been 
down  in  very  bad  spirits." 

"What  aboiitV"  Henley  asked,  with  a  most 
commiserating  face.  -  .■>; 

"Oh,  I  can't  say,  I'm  sure!"  lone  answered, 
not  quite  so  sympathetically  as  Henley  Stokes 
could  have  wished.  "It's  a  way  she  has,  some- 
times. Blackbird  wouldn't  be  happy,  don't  you 
know,  if  she  wasn't  miserable." 

This  was  paradoxical,  but  true,  and  Henley 
admitted  its  force. 

"There  are  no  fresh  laurel-leaves  just  now,  you 
see,"  he  said,  musing  slowly  to  himself.  "I  al- 
ways thought,  lone,  Blackbird  was  never  so  well 
pleased  or  so  comforted  in  soul  as  when  she  was 


■^i 


■■'  .'it 


gjl?.fji>*u!4(iiM!M  ''' 


870 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDEBS. 


F 


ft- 


I  ;,: 


pfflv 


busy  mi.king  those  investigations  on  laurel 
leaves  and  the  infusions  she  got  out  of 
them." 

lone  was  less  interested  in  the  subject  than  the 
young  man  from  Pump  Court.  She  led  the  way 
listlessly  into  Blackbird's  laboratory. 

"Here's  Henley!"  she  said,  with  a  brusque 
opening  of  the  door.  Blackbird  gave  a  little 
start,  and  popped  a  bottle  she  was  fingering  into 
the  cupboard  at  once  in  a  somewhat  flurried  man- 
ner. But  she  stepped  forward,  flushing  up  rather 
more  than  was  lier  wont. 

"Oh,  ho'v  kind  of  you  to  come  round!"  she 
said,  taking  his  hand  and  trembling. 

Henley  Stokes  seated  himself,  and  drew  his 
chair  near  liers.  For  a  while  he  talked  nerv- 
ously about  various  general  subjects,  screwing 
up  courage  all  the  time  for  the  final  plunge. 

At  last,  when  Blackbird  unconsciously  gave 
him  a  good  lead  for  the  remark,  he  went  on, 
wistfully : 

"Well,  that  was  just  what  I  came  round  about 
to  day,  do  you  know.  You  remember,  Black- 
bird, that  morning  last  summer,  when  I — when 
I  spoke  to  you  so,  and  you  were  so  very,  very 
kind  to  me — "'  Blackbird  nodded  petulantly — 
•'yo;\  remember,  you  said  we  could  never  be  en- 
gaged. Well,  I've  come  round  to-da}'  to  ask 
you  plainlr  whij.  I'll  take  no  excuse.  You 
must  answer  me.  Blackbird;  I  won't  go  away 
till  you've  answered  me." 

As  he  said  those  words  Blackbird  clinched  her 
thin  fingers  hard  and  drove  the  nails  into  her 


\'''^.lwS-a?-*jfc?feA>M-^'*..'-;-(C«-:J**A^v. 


RDEBS. 

ajations    on    laurel 
she    got    out   of 

le  subject  than  the 
.  She  led  the  way 
>ratory. 

1,  with  a  brusque 
bird  gave  a  little 
was  fingering  into 
ivhat  flurried  man- 
,  flushing  up  rather 

oome  round!"  she 
nbling. 

elf,  and  drew  his 
e  he  talked  nerv- 
iubjects,  screwing 
'  final  plunge, 
inconsciously  gave 
aark,  he  went  on, 

came  round  about 
remember,  Black- 
^er,  when  I — when 
vere  so  very,  very 
>dded  petulantly — 
could  never  be  en- 
md  to-day  to  ask 
no  excuse.  You 
I  won't  go  away 

kbird  clinched  her 
the  nails  into  her 


UNDER   SCALED   ORDERS. 


371 


palm.     Then  she  looked  up  at  him  almost  de- 
fiantly. 

"Oh,  Henley,"  she  cried,  holding  her  breath, 
and  half  closing  her  big  black  eye,-5,  "I  thought 
I  told  you  then  it  was  impossible,  impossible. 
Why  do  you  want  to  reopen  it?  All  these  times, 
ever  since,  when  I've  seen  you  from  day  to  day, 
it's  Ijeon  so  sweet  to  me  to  think— you  really 
oared  for  me,  that  I've  gone  i.n  clinging  to  life 
—clinging  to  life  in  spite  of  myself.  I  thought 
you  loved  me  tjo  well  to  go  worrying  me  with 
iove.  Don't  spoil  it  all  now  by  asking  such  hor- 
rid questions!"  • 

The  young  man  bent  over  her  tenderly.  He 
couMn't  understand  her,  but  indeed  he  loved 
her!  How  sweet  and  frail  she  looked!  like 
some  delicate  piece  of  fine  Dresden  china. 

"But  T  can't  help  it,  darling,"  he  murmured, 
dropping  his  voice  quite  low  and  looking  deep 
into  her  dark  eyes  through  the  fringe  of  half- 
closed  lashes.  "All these  times,  as  you  sayi^' ve 
put  it  off  and  off,  waiting  anxiously  froni  day  to 
day,  fearing  I  might  vex  you  again;  till,  now 
Sachaand  Trevor  are  married,  I  keep  saying  to 
my  own  heart— Why  not  then  just  as  well  my- 
self and  Blackbird?" 

The  words  fell  like  a  match  on  a  heap  of  gun- 
powder. Blackbird  opened  her  eyes  suddenly, 
and  fronted  him  with  the  face  of  one  possessed. 
Her  access  of  energy  frightened  him. 

"Married !"  she  cried,  flashing  fire  at  him  from 
both  those  glowing  eyes.  "Married!  Married! 
Married!    Oh,  Henley,  I  wonder  you,  who  know 


Mi^s^^ 


■     \      ' 
•l 


'*"<f S59Sii^'  JSSSSiS. 


872 


UNDER  SBAL.BD   ORDERS. 


and  love  me  so  well— for  I'm  sure  you  love  me 
— I  wonder  you  don't  see  for  yourself  the  reason 
why  I  can't  be  married !  If  you  knew  how  ypu 
were  torturing  me !  If  you  knew  how  you  were 
killing  me!  It's  agony  1  agony!  But,  there! 
you're  a  man — strong,  virile,  robust;  how  should 
you  ever  be  able  to  gauge  and  fathom  the  feel- 
ings of  such  a  girl  as  I  am?" 

"Then,  you'll  never  marry  me.  Blackbird?" 
Henley  cried,  taken  aback,  but  lifting  her  hand 
to  his  lips  none  the  less  and  pressing  it  there 
tenderly. 

Blackbird  accepted  the  caress  with  passive  ac- 
quiescence. Nay,  more,  she  loved  it.  It  was 
Bweet  to  her  to  be  loved.  It  made  her  tingle  with 
pleasure.  But,  for  all  that,  she  drew  back  as  she 
answered,  passionately : 

"  No,  never,  never,  never.  .  .  .  And  that's  not 
all.  "Worse  than  that.  You've  broken  my  dream 
vow.  For  days  I've  been  expecting  it.  For  days 
I'viSt-been  dreading  it.  Now  the  thunderbolt  litis 
fallen.  I  was  happy  while  you  were  merely  con- 
tent to  love  me.  But  when  you  talk  of  marriage 
— Henley,  the  bubble's  burst.  I  can  only  sleep 
away.     My  life's  gone  from  me." 

She  was  terribly  agitated. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  the  young  man  cried, 
pressing  her  hand  still  harder.  "Oh,  Blackbird, 
Blackbird,  don't  dismiss  me  without  telling  me 
at  least  the  reason!" 

Blackbird  t^tood  up  and  faced  him.  She  was 
deadly  pale  by  this  time,  and  her  lips  trembled 
violently. 


>EBS. 

ur'e  you  love  me 
urself  the  reasou 
n  knew  how  you 
iw  how  you  were 
ly!  But,  there! 
)U8t;  how  should 
fathom  ^the  feel- 

ne,  Blackbird?" 
lifting  her  hand 
ireiising  it  there 

with  passive  ac- 
)ved  it.  It  was 
le  her  tingle  with 
drew  back  as  she 

.  And  that's  not 
jroken  my  dream 
ing  it.  For  days 
I  thunderbolt  litis 
were  merely  con- 
talk  of  marriage 
[  can  ouly  sleep 


oung  man  cried, 
"Oh,  Blackbird, 
fchout  t^elUug  me 

.  him.  She  was 
ler  lips  trembled 


PPWPJffff 


UNDER   SKAT^ED   ORDERS. 


373 


"Itvtll  tell  you  the  reason,"  she  answered, 
with  a  terrible  forced  calm.     "I  can't  keep  it 
from  you  any  longer.     I  must  out  with  it  or  die, 
1  will  tell  you  the  reason.— Henley,  you're  a  man, 
and  you  love  me  as  a  woman.     But  will  you  have 
the  truth?     I'm  not  a  woman  at  all — not  a  wo- 
man in  the  sense  you  mean — not  a  woman  to  be 
loved  as  a  man  wants  to  love  her.     I'm  only  a 
little  girl   grown  up— that's  all— in  brain   and 
mind  and  intelligence  a  woman,  but  in  body  a 
child,  no  more  fit  to  love  or  be  loved  in  the  way 
you  think  than  a  four-year-old  baby.     If  I  love 
at  all,  it's  with  my  brain,  not  with  my  heart  or 
my  body.  .  .  .  When  you  talk  to  me  like  a  man 
— even  you,  who  are  so  gentle  and  so  patient  and 
so  kind — you  simply  frighten  me.     I  haven't  got 
the  instincts  lone  and  Sacha  have.  .  •  •  How 
could  it  be  else?     Listen  here,  dear  Henley.     I  ve 
thought  of  this,  day  and  night,  till  I  know  what 
I'm  spsakiug  of.     All  the  woman  that  ever  was 
in  me  or  ought  to  have  been  in  me  has  been  edu- 
cated out,  crushed  and  killed  by  teaching.     It's 
all  gone  off  in  music  or  mathematics  or  chemistry 
or  Greek.     The  rest  of  you  are  creatures  of  flesh 
and  blood.     I'm  not  even  as  you  are.     I'm  all 
brain    and    nerves.     The   flesh   and    blood   are 
bred  out  of  me.     I've  nothing  left  to  love  you 

with."  '     ,*,-flt«^      r  .,y 

"But  you  do  love  me!"  Henley  Stokes  mur- 
mured low,  looking  at  her,  still  admiringly 

"Yes,  I  love  you,  my  darling,  I  love  you. 

Blackbird  cried,  trembling  all  over  with  joy  and 

grief,  and  holding  both  his  hands  in  hers,  and 


/    .: 


>» 


•1' 


,j 


*'? 


Sai 


'^    '  ^i,i|-^'      f  I  lif  HiVi  I  lii  1'rii  r  ^  I  I         lifcjWiiiii,  t—.^.  Mit^i^    iitfi ■'■...'"■  ' - 


8?4 


UNDBB  SEALED  ORDERS. 


thrilling  through  to  the  finger- tips.  "I  love  you 
all  I  can,  and  I  love  you  to  love  me.  I've  been 
happier  these  few  mouths  than  ever  I  was  iu  all 
my  life  before.  For  the  first  time  I' ve  been  happy. 
I've  known  what  joy  meant;  I've  lived,  instead 
of  merely  existing  and  learning.  But,  all  the 
time,  a  black  shadow  has  disturbed  my  happi- 
ness. I  knew  it  must  come  to  an  end  at  last — 
before  long.  I  Unew  I  was  deceiving  you.  .  .  , 
For  you  wanted  a  ivoin'an  to  love  and  be  loved 
by ;  and  all  you've  got  instead  is  an  animated 
music-book — the  leavings  and  relics  of  the  higher 
education." 

Henley  turned  to  her  in  a  tremor  of  pity  and 
kissed  her  white  lips.  Just  that  once,  iu  the  ex- 
altation of  the  moment,  she  allowed  him.  She 
almost  imagined  she  could  understand  why 
women,  real  wometi,  liked  such  sfrange  caresses. 
The  kiss  coursed  through  and  through  her,  rous- 
ing vague  echoes  in  her  limbs;  but  she  folt  it 
was  wrong;  she  felt  it  was  hopeless, 

"There!  There!  That'll  do!"  she  cried, 
breaking  down  half  hysterically  and  motion- 
ing him  off  with  her  hands.  "Don't  ask  me 
any  more.  Remember,  this  is  final.  I've  boen 
drilled  and  instructed  from  my  childhood  up  till 
there's  no  power  or  spontaneity  or-life  left  in  me. 
To  love  a  man  as  he  wants  to  be  loved  you  must 
have  flesh  and  blood.  I'm  a  spirit,  that's  all,  in 
a  casing  of  clothes.  A  voice — and  a  tired  one. 
The  only  thing  left  for  me  now  is  to  close  my 
eyes,  if  I  can,  and  sleep  on  forever.  Close  my 
eyes,  and  sleep  away,  and  never  wake  up  again. 


tips.  "I  love  you 
ire  me.  I've  been 
L  ever  I  was  iu  all 
B  I've  been  happy, 
've  lived,  instead 
ng.  But,  all  the 
urbed  my  happi- 
I  an  end  at  last — 
ieiving  you.  ,  .  , 
love  and  be  loved 
id  is  an  animated 
elics  of  the  higher 

remor  of  pity  and 
it  once,  iu  the  ex- 
lowed  him.  She 
understand   why 

sfrange  caresses, 
hrough  her,  rous- 
;  but  she  folt  it 
)peles8, 

-lo!"  she  cried, 
lly  and   motion- 

"  Don't  ask  me 
final.  I've  boen 
childhood  up  till 
or-life  left  in  me. 
?  loved  you  must 
irit,  that's  all,  in 
-and  a  tired  one. 
w  is  to  close  my 
•ever.  Close  my 
•  wake  up  again. 


TTKDBB  SEALED   ORDffRS- 


For,  having  once  known  this,  there's  nothing 
more  on  earth  for  me!" 

She  let  his  hands  drop  short :  then,  just  once, 
with  a  sudden  impulse,  transcending  hor  own 
nature,  she  bent  forward  glow iag  hot — and  kissed 
both  his  wistful  eyes  with  an  impassioned  press- 
ure. 

"I  know  what  they  want,"  she  ried,  "those 
dear,  dear  eyes— and  I  never  could  give  it^them. 
(J^ood-by,  good-by,  kind  friend— the  only  man 
on  earth  I  ever  could  love;  the  only  man  on 
earth  who  ever  could  love  me!  C*oou-by — for- 
ever!" And  with  a  quick  burst  of  tears,  she 
rushed  all  at  once  from  the  room  like  a  wounded 
creature  leaving  Henley  alone,  amazed  and  dis- 
comfitod. 


w 


^^TV 


876 


UMDEB  SEAIiBO  ORDEaS. 


:,„.,,,.,,;,,.^,.  ^ 


*■ 

A- 


I    ' 


•  CHAPTER  XLI. 

LAUKBL  LEAVBS. 


"Some  people,  they  tell  me,  are  afraid  of 
Death.  It  was  never  so  with  me,  clear  Henley. 
It's  Life  I'm  afraid  of.  For  a  while  I  endured 
it.  I  can  endure  it  no  longer.  Good-night,  lov- 
ing heart!  I  hope  I  may  sleep-^with  no  dreams 
to  bother  me." 

So  Henley  Stokes  read  next  morning  on  a  post- 
card, ii  a  very  firm  hand.  It  was  signed  just 
"Blackbird."  No  more  than  those  few  words. 
But  they  made  his  heart  sink.  He  looked  at 
them  and  trembled.  What  could  Blackbird 
mean  by  it?  ■   "  f 

Sei'jng  hie  hat.  forthwith,  he  rushed  out  into 
the  Strand.  There,  he  hailed  a  passing  han- 
som; "Drive  quick!  to  Victoria  Street!"  He 
rang  the  bell  of  the  flat.  lone  opened  the  door 
— bright  and  smiling  as  usual.  Henley's  heart 
came  up  into  his  mouth  at  the  sight,  for  joy. 
Then  all  was  well,  after  all!  He  pressed  her 
hand  hard  Blackbird  had  only  been  terrifying 
him!  If  anything  had  happened,  lone  could 
never  look  so  gay  and  cheerful  as  that!  The 
very  light  in  her  merry  eyes  reassured  him 
iijamensely. 


.  f-us-  Ti:s:;-7',T*TP^ '.■ 


-;W^^«'itf^^J»«wrt*j 


>Ei(a.     ' 


B8. 

e,  are  afraid  of 
me,  dear  Henloy. 
I  while  I  endured 
Good-nigbt,  lov- 
'-witU  uo  dreams 

lorning  on  a  posi- 
was  signed  just 
those  few  words. 
c.  He  looked  at 
could    Blackbird 

I  rushed  out  into 

a  passing  han- 

ria  Street!"    He 

opened  the  door 

Henley's  heart 

16  sight,  for  joy. 

He  pressed  her 

y  been  terrifying 

ued,    lone  could 

il  as  that!    The 

I  reassured    him 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


877 


Still,  it  was  in  a  broken  voice  that  ho  stam- 
mered out  the  question,  "And  Blackbird?  How 
is  slie?" 

"Blackl»ird?"  lono  answorod,  half  ahirmod  at 
liis  gravity.  "Well,  you're  so  early  this  morn- 
ing, you  ace.  It  isn't  nino  o'clock  yet.  I'm 
only  the  housomuid,  of  course,  so  it  doesn't  mat- 
ter for  me;  but  you  can't  expect  the  ladies  of 
the  house  to  bo  up  and  dressed,  ready  to  receive 
visitors,  at  sucli  an  unearthly  hour.  Besides, 
when  Blackbird  went  to  bed  last  night,  she 
askod  us  not  to  call  her — to  let  her  sleep  on. 
She  ft-lt  as  if  she  should  get  some  rest  at  last, 
she  said — she's  been  sleepless  lately,  and  she 
didn't  want  us  on  any  account  to  wake  her  up 
or  disturb  her." 

Henley  Stokes's  heart  stood  still  withih  him 
once  more  at  those  ominous  words.  "Some  rest 
at  last!"  ho  cried,  turning  paler  than  ever,  md 
grasping  a  chair  in  his  horror.  "Some  rest  at 
last!  Oh,  lone,  didn't  j'ou  guess,  didn't  you 
kuow  what  she  meant?  'iVe  must  wake  her  up 
at  once!  We  must  go  in  to  her  room  and  try  to 
TOUse  her!" 

As  ho  spoke,  he  put  the  post-card  into  lone's 
hands  without  one  word  of  explanation.  lono 
read  it,  and  broke  at  ouce  into  a  sudden  little 
cry.  "Sacha,  Sacha,"  she  burst  out,  hurrying 
terrified  down  the  passage,  "we  must  force  open 
the  door.  Oh,  look  at  it"!  look  at  it  I  Do  you 
know  what  this  means?  Poor  Blackbird  has 
killed  herself!" 

In  a  moment,  Owen  and  Sacha  had  rushed  out 


tf 


378 


UNDKR   SEALED   ORDERS. 


^% 


into  the  passjige,  aud  stood  together,  all  tremu- 
lous, in  front  of  Blackbird's  door.  "With  one 
side  blow  of  his  strong  fist,  Owen  broke  off  the 
lock  fittings.  It  yielded,  instantly.  They  en- 
tered, hushed  and  awestruck— Owen  first,  then 
Henley  Stokes,  then  lone  and  Sacha.  As  they 
did  so,  Owen  started ;  Henley  gave  a  sharp  gasp, 
and  stood  still  on  the  threshold.  Within,  very 
motionless.  Blackbird  lay  across  the  bed,  in  a 
simple  black  grenadine  evening  dress,  her  feet 
just  touching  the  ground,  her  head  thrown  on 
one  side,  as  if  listless,  on  the  pillow.  She  was 
sleeping  soundly— at  rest  at  last.  Her  face  was 
very  white.     Her  thin  hands  were  bloodless. 

Owen  was  the  first  to  move  forward,  with  the 
solemn  step  a  deathroom  seems  to  call  forth  auto- 
matically; he  gazed  hanl  at  the  poor  child,  as 
she  lay  there,  in  her  loneliness.  She  was  pallid 
but  peaceful.  A  little  foam  at  the  mouth,  a 
slight  blueness  of  the  lips,  were  the  sole  signs  of 
what  had  happened.  Save  for  that,  she  looked 
merely  as  if  she  had  fallen  into  a  very  deep 
sleep.  He  touched  one  hand  reverently  with 
inquiring  fingers.  It  was  cold  as  ice,  but  still 
soft  and  yielding. 

By  her  side  on  the  little  table  lay  a  corked  bot- 
tle. Against  it,  a  piece  of  paper  was  conspicu- 
ously tilted.  "Don't  touch,  foi  heaven's  sake. 
Prussic  acid.  Very  poisonous.  The  fumes 
would   kill   3'ou."  ' ,     ' 

They  looked  at  it,  appalled,  without  Haying  a 
word  to  one  another.  Sacha  took  Owen's  hand 
in  hers.     They  paused,  and  gazed  at  the  beauti- 


'tlior,  all  tremu- 
lloor.     "With  one 
n  broke  oflF  the 
ntly.     They  en- 
Oweu  first,  then 
)Hcha.     As  they 
ve  a  sharp  gasp, 
Within,  very 
38  the  bed,  in  a 
dress,  her  feet 
head  thrown  on 
illow.     She  weui 
■     Her  face  was 
re  bloodless, 
irward,  with  the 
J  call  forth  anto- 
e  poor  child,  as 
She  was  pallid 
t  the  mouth,  a 
the  sole  signs  of 
that,  she  looked 
to  a  very  ^eep 
•everently   with 
as  ice,  but  still 

ly  a  corked  bot- 

'  was  conspicu- 

heaven's  sake. 

The    fumes 

thout  Haying  a 

k  Owen's  hand 

at  the  beauti- 


UNDEK  SEALED   ORDERS. 


879 


ful  calm  face,  more  befiutiful  now  it  was  at  rest 
nt  hiat  than  over  it  had  been  during  tliu  woari- 
iicHH  of  living.  Tears  .stole  slowly  down  their 
cheeks.  Not  one  of  them  needed  to  a-ik  why 
iiluckbird  had  killed  her.self.  They  knew  very 
well  already  The  wonder  was,  rather,  why 
she  hadn't  done  it  long  ago. 

Weary,  weary  of  a  life  that  was  a  jiain  ami  a 
bitterness  to  her.  Longing  to  be  at  rest.  Too 
tired  to  do  more  than  lie  down  and  be  well  rid 
of  it. 

They  stood  there  long  in  silence,  gazing  mute- 
ly at  one  another.  Then  Henley  Stokes  stepped 
forward,  very  solemnly  and  reverently,  and 
kissed  the  white  forehead  once  with  a  deep- 
drawn  sigh.  As  he  did  so,  ho  saw  a  little  piece 
of  paper  lay  crumpled  up  convulsively  in  the 
less  conspicuous  hand.  He  drew  it  forth  hair 
remorseful,  as  if  afraid  of  disturbing  poor  Black- 
bird's peace.  It  was  a  twisted  wee  note,  in- 
scribed in  pencil,  "For  Heidey." 

He  opened  it  and  read.  "Three  o'clock, 
Wednesday  morning.  Just  before  taking  the 
poison.  Dearest  Henley,  you  have  given  me  a 
few  short  months  of  the  only  happiness  I  ever 
know  in  my  poor  little  life.  But  of  course  it 
couldn't  last.  I  knew  it  was  delusive.  It 
grieves  me  to  think  I  must  requite  you  so  ill  by 
giving  you  in  return  so  much  needless  sor- 
row." 

On  the  center  table  was  a  long  letter  in  an  en- 
velope, addressed  to  Sacha.  Owen  handed  it  to 
her  without  a  word.     Sacha  opened  it  and  read. 


-I 

1 


TT^ 


380 


UNDRK   HRALED   ORDRRR. 


Tilt  rest  looked  over  her  shoulder  and  follow b' 
in  Hilonco. 

"13  Mi<lnitjht. 

"Dear,  okar  good  Sapha— I  write  to  you 
most  of  all,  booKUSo  I  kn  >\v  you  will  host  under 
stand  nie.  Henley  undorHtands  too;  hut  then 
Henley  knows  so  much  I  needn't  write  to  him. 
So  I  set  down  these  few  words  for  you,  to  he 
read  at  the  inquest.  I  suppose  there'll  be  an  in- 
quest. They  won't  even  let  a  poor  tired  girl  lie 
down  to  sleep  when  she  chooses,  hut  they  must 
drag  her  out  publicly  to  ask  why  she  lay  down 
and  what  she  wanted  to  rest  for . 

"  Vou  know  I  was  tired,  and  how  hard  I  found 
it  to  keep  awake  at  all.  You  know  how  my  life 
was  a  grief  and  a  burden  to  me.  What  I  wanted 
was  just  to  put  my  hands  behind  my  head,  and 
fling  myself  down  on  the  soft  sweet  grass,  with 
the  warm  sky  above  mo,  and  the  drowsy  hum  of 
the  bees  for  a  lullaby  in  my  ear;  to  fall  asleep 
then  and  there,  and  never,  never  wake  up  again. 
I  couldn't  do  that;  but  I've  done  what  I  could. 
I've  taken  a  sleeping-draught — or  I  moan  soon 
to  take  it.  It's  a  very  sure  and  certain  one.  It 
acts  instantaneously.  I  made  it  myself.  It's 
called  prussic  acid. 

"Sacha  dear,  I  don't  need  to  ask  you  to  for- 
give me.  You  under-stfiud  me  so  well  you  won't 
want  explanations  But  I'd  like  to  explain 
how  it  all  happenetl,  to  the  jury.  They  won't 
understand,  of  course;  those  twelve  dreadful 
men,  stolid,  thickheaded,  commonplace.  They'll 
say,  'She  was  mad.'     Oh,  Sacha.  don't  let  them 


■/:^-^--^^L..r,.-^-b  .., 


PKRS.       . 

(ler  .ind  follow b-l 

"la  Midnijfht. 
I  write  to  you 
will  host  undor 
M  too;  but  thoii 
n't  write  to  him. 
Is  for  you,  to  bo 
there'll  be  an  in- 
KHir  tirod  girl  Ho 
«,  but  they  inuHt 
by  she  lay  down 

low  hard  I  found 
now  how  my  life 
Wluit  I  wanted 
nd  my  head,  and 
kveet  grasH,  with 
3  drowsy  hum  of 
vr;  to  fall  asleep 
■  wake  up  again, 
le  what  I  could, 
-or  I  mean  soon 
certain  one.     It 
it  myself.     It's 

ask  you  to  for- 
)  Avell  you  won't 
like  to  explain 
y.  They  won't 
welve  dreadful 
iplaco.  They'll 
.  don't  lot  them 


VNPKIi   HBALBO   OUUKKS. 


381 


call  me  that  I'm  ho  senHJldf,  ho  logical.  It 
would  give  nir  hjid  drcains  in  my  IhhI  uiiiler  the 
green  grass.  'Make  them  weu  I  uaw  just  tired. 
So  tired,  srt  weary,  it  wan  tmreaHonaltb?  for  mo 
to  do  unything  else  on  eartli  but  fall  asleep  with 
lists  ciincb"d  like  a  drowsy  l);iby. 

"For  yenrs  I've  done  iiotliing  l>nt  learn,  learn, 
learn.  I  was  worked  from  my  babyhood.  They 
said  I  Wiis  clever,  and  must  develop  my  talents. 
Wluui  my  talents  wore  d(!veloi)t>d,  there  was 
notliing  else  left  of  me,  The  woman  was  dead; 
the  brain  alone  remained.  1  could  compose,  I 
could  sing,  I  could  read  and  write  and  reason; 
but  live  (111  love  or  enjoy  myself,  I  couldn't. 

"And  1  wanted  to  love.  I  wanted  to  be  loved. 
Oh,  I  wanted  it  so  badly!  But  don't  tell  them 
about  that,  dear.  Don't  refid  that  at  the  in- 
(luost.  You  and  Henley  can  understand.  For 
the  rest  of  thorn,  no  matter. 

"There  was  only  one  thing  in  life  1  had  energy 
left  for.  I  lt>nged  for  sleep  so  much  that  I  made 
my  mind  up  mouths  and  mouths  ago  1  iir  * 
have  a  sleeping  draught.  I  read  up  about  them 
all;  all  the  draughts  that  make  you  sleep  and 
never  wake  up  again.  Most  of  them  were  slow, 
long,  doubtful,  ineffective.  But  I  found  there 
was  one  that  never  failed  or  hung  fire.  That 
one  was  prussio  acid.  I  determined  to  get  some 
and  keep  it  by  my  side  for  use  when  I  wanted 
it.  But  they  wouldn't  let  me  buy  any.  There's 
a  conspiracy  in  England  to  keep  people  awake 
against  their  will,  whether  they're  tired  or 
not.     You  mayn't  buy  a  sleeping  draught,  even 


I, 


ri- 


882 


UNnKR  SRAl.RD  ORDRRS. 


tbi 


for  UH«  on  tlu'  »pot.  So  the  only  way  left  was 
for  mo  to  make  it. 

"Tlmt  oompollod  me  to  lonrn  chemiHtry.  I 
lenrnotl  it,  nxu\  witii  a  will.  I  wan  ho  tirwl  I 
could  muHtcr  up  enorgy  onough  and  to  sparo,  if 
it  wan  to  l)riiig  mo  my  sleeping  draught.  I 
worked  away  at  it  hard,  and  Hoon  lefirnod  the 
bewt  plauH  for  makitig  prussic  acid. 

"J)o  yon  romomher,  all  hwt  Hununer,  I  was  al- 
wayH  nu^ssing  about  in  the  laboratory  with  laurel 
leavoH?  Well,  laurel  leaves  contain  aniygdalin, 
and  from  amygdalin  you  can  dintill  hyclroayrrio 
acid — that's  the  chemical  name  of  it.  I  might 
have  made  it  from  drugs;  but  thiH  way  was 
prettier.  I  distilled  <piito  a  lot — enough  to  put 
you  all  to  sleep,  if  you  too  feel  weary.  But 
there!  you  have  health  and  strength,  and  fiesh 
and  blood  to  love  with.  You're  not  a  ghost  like 
me.     You're  a  real  live  woman. 

"When  you  marriwl,  it  made  mo  feel  the  dif- 
ference more  keenly  than  over.  And  yesterday, 
when  Henley  asked  me  to  marry  him,  I  said  to 
myself,  'The  end  has  (!ome  now.  I  can't  stand 
it  any  longer,  this  mockery  of  life.  I  won't 
live,  a  child,  to  be  treated  like  a  woman,  when 
I  know  I'm  a  gbost,  a  phantonx,  a  nullity,  I 
won't  spoil  this  dear  man's  life  for  him  by 
standing  in  his  way.  I'll  lie  down  and  rest  at 
last.     I'll  take  my  sleeping  draught.' 

"I  meant  to  have  taken  it  long  ago;  but  one 
thing  put  me  off.  The  little  spark  of  woman- 
hood that  was  still  left  within  me  afler  so  much 
education  flared  up  in  a  dying  flicker  when  Hen- 


»KRH. 


VNDBK   HEALED   OKDKK8. 


888 


ily  way  loft  WHH 

"M  chemistry.  I 
I  u'lis  HO  tired  I 
und  ti)  spHro,  if 
iiiK  (Iniuf^ht.  1 
K<>i>n  leurnod  tlie 
id. 

limner,  I  was  al- 
itory  with  laurol 
tiiiu  ainyf,'dalin, 
Htill  hydroayrrio 
•  of  it.  I  might 
t  thiH  way  was 
—enough  to  put 
ael  weary.  But 
rength,  and  fleah 
<  not  a  ghost  like 

>  me  feel  the  dif- 
And  yoHtorday, 
ry  him,  I  said  to 
^  I  can't  staud 
{  life.  I  won't 
a  woman,  when 
II,  a  nullity.  I 
ife  for  him  by 
town  aud  rest  at 
ght.' 

ng  ago;  but  one 
park  of  woman- 
le  after  bo  much 
cker  when  Hen- 


loj*  wafl  kind  to  mo.  It  mado  m(*  fool  how  d(<H- 
ciouH  it  muHt  lio  to  l')Vo  ami  bt^  lovod.  Kvoii  the 
vague  little  Hhudow  of  it  I  coidd  clutch  at  and 
understand  nmdo  life  worth  living  for  a  few 
siiort  months  to  me.  Oidy,  1  know  I  was  wrong. 
I  kuew  I  wart  Hacrificiug  that  dear  kind  heart 
to  a  child'H  empty  fancy.  Yesterday,  with  a 
breath,  tlie  bubble  l)ur8t.  And  I  thought,  for 
his  Hake,  and  for  my  own  rest's  sake,  I  must  bo 
done  with  it  all  now,  aud  take  my  Hlee])ing 
draught. 

"I  shall  take  it  at  three  o'clock,  with  a  thought 
for  you  all.     Gooil-by,  dear  heart. 

'Your  affect'.onate 

'Blackbird." 

Henley  flimg  himself  in  a  chair  and  buried  his 
face  in  his  hamlrt.  "Poor  child,  poor  cbild  !"  he 
cried  aloud.  "And  to  think  I  should  have  killed 
her!" 

Sacha  bent  over  the  pale  corpse  with  big  tears 
iu  her  eyes.  "Not  you,  not  you,  dear  Hordoy," 
she  said,  gazing  at  it^  "but  her  parents  and 
teachers." 

And  as  she  raised  her  eyes  once  more,  they  fell 
on  the  words  Blackb^'rd  had  painted  round  her 
room: 

"  Tliou  art  more  than  the  Gods  who  number  the 
(lays  of  our  tpniporal  hrcatli; 
For  theso    give   labor   and  sliimberj    but  thou, 
Proserpina,  death." 


•  -IS' 


'*.'3S; 


>i.  %*^'*'' "  ■-■'.>*  ■4ii{^^:LS 


mm 


'\m ' 


384 


UNDER  SEALED   ORDERS. 


K  .-V 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

BAD   MATERIAL. 

On  the  Continent,  meanwhile,  Mr.  Hayward's 
saccess  had  been  partial  and  inconclusive. 

Tlio  very  morning  of  his  arrival  in  Paris  he 
went  hastily  round  from  hia  comfortable  hotel  in 
the  Rue  de  la  Paix  to  a  shabby  street  on  the 
South  Side,  to  get  back,  if  possible,  into  his  own 
hands  the  incriminating  envelope  which  con- 
tained Owen  Cazalet's  name  and  address  in  En- 
gland. For  this  purpose,  he  meant  to  introduce 
himself  at  once  to  bis  brother  Nihilist  as  Ruric 
Brassoflf;  for  nobody  on  earth,  save  Madame  Mi 
reff  alone,  was  aware  of  the  identity  of  the  exiled 
prince  with  Mr.  Lambert  Hay  ward,  senior  part- 
ner in  the  firm  of  Mortimer  &  Co.,  in  Bond 
Street.  Had  others  known  it,  needless  to  say, 
the  identification  of  Owen  with  Sergius  Selistoflf 
the  younger  would  have  been  very  plain  sail- 
iag.  But  Mr.  Hayward,  who  did  nothing  by 
halves,  had  kept  his  English  home  and  occupa- 
tion discreetly  concealed  from  the  prying  gaze  of 
all  his  Nihilist  allies;  so  he  ran  no  risk  now  of 
implicating  C/w^^^i  by  any  other  means  than  the 
sealed  envelope. 


ORDERS. 


AL. 

lie,  Mr.  Ha3rward'8 
inconclusive, 
arrival  in  Paris  he 
comfortable  hotel  in 
Qabby  street  on  the 
esible,  into  his  own 
velope  which   con- 
and  address  in  En- 
meant  to  introduce 
sr  Nihilist  as  Ruric 
,  save  Madame  Mi 
lentity  of  the  exiled 
yward,  senior  part- 
r  &  Co.,   in  Bond 
t,  needless  to  say, 
th  Sergius  Selistoff 
m  very  plain  sail- 
10  did  nothing  by 
home  and  occupa- 
the  prying  gaze  of 
ran  no  risk  now  of 
ler  means  than  the 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


386 


Arri  vetl  at  the  Rue  des  Saints  Peres,  he  climbed 
a  high  staircase  an  iinquU>me,  with  a  beating 
heart,  and,  knocking  at  a  closed  door,  asked  for 
Valerian  Stefanovic. 

He  was  shown  at  once  into  a  barely  furnished 
salon.  His  fellow  conspirator  rose  from  his  seat 
by  a  table  at  the  far  end  to  receive  him.  "I  am 
Ruric  Bras.soff,"  Mr.  Hayvvard  srad  simply,  as 
the  door  closed  behind  him.  Stefanovic,  with- 
out altering  one  muscle  of  liis  inscrutable  face, 
bowed  a  non-committing  bow.  The  Chief  was 
taken  aback  by  so  cool  a  reception.  Middle- 
aged,  wiry,  suspicious,  a  lean  and  hungry  man, 
with  a  mustache  like  IMephistopheles,  this  Vale- 
rian Stefanovic  seemed  the  very  embodiment  of 
the  calmly  sardonic  or  calculating  type  of  con- 
spirator. Not  at  all  the  sort  of  person  to  be 
lightly  moved,  Mr.  Hayvvard  felt,  by  superficial 
blandishments.  The  Chief  looked  at  him,  and 
despaired.  It  was  clear  if  he  was  ta  succeed  at 
all  in  his  present  undertaking  he  nmst  succeed 
not  by  frankness  but  by  will  and  stratagem. 

It  took  him  some  time,  of  coarse,  at  the  outset 
to  persuade  Stefanovic  at  all  that  he  was  really 
and  truly  Ruric  Brassoff.  Appearances  were 
against  him.  Th.?  sardonic  con.spirator  for  some 
minutes  stood  entirely  on  the  defensive,  frankly 
incredulous.  But  even  after  this  initial  diffi- 
culty had  been  in  part  overcome,  there  remained 
the  far  h  irder  task  of  inducing  his  ally  to  give 
up  the  all-important  letter.  In  despair  of  fair 
means,  Mr.  Hayward  after  a  time  began  to  feign 
distrust  on  his  own  side,  and  to  doubt  about  the 


'.i^m 


.^fi 


386 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


m 

HI 


safety  of  tho  precious  sealed  envelope.  Thus 
put  upon  his  mettle,  Stefanovic,  after  some  brief 
parleying,  produced  the  challenged  document 
t'roni  a  little  locked  drawer,  and  hold  it  out  cau- 
tiously before  his  visitor's  eye,  with  his  own  two 
hands  still  carefully  guarding  it.  Mr.  Hayward 
scanned  him  close  He  was  a  lithe  thin  man — 
no  match  for  a  Brassoff  physically.  Quick  as 
lightning,  without  a  word  8p.)ken,  tho  Nihilist 
Chief  pounced  down  upon  him  unawares,  and 
seizing  both  wrists  in  his  own,  wrenched  them 
rapidly  round  till  the  envelope  droppetl  from 
Stefanovic's  grasp.  Then,  stooping  down  before 
the  man  had  recovered  from  his  pain  and  sur- 
prise, he  picked  it  up  in  haste  and  tore  it  open. 
The  seal  was  intact;  so  far,  good;  the  envelope 
then  had  not  been  tampered  witli.  A  wood  fire 
burned  bright  in  the  open  grate  of  the  little 
salon.  "Without  a  second's  hesitation,  Mr.  Hay- 
ward  flung  the  incriminating  paper  with  Owen's 
name  and  address  into  the  midst  of  the  flame. 
It  blazed  up  instantaneously,  burned  to  whitu 
ash  in  a  moment,  and  then  flew  up  the  chimney, 
a  thin  and  twinkling  sheet  of  spark-bespangled 
tissue. 

With  a  wild  shout,  Stefanovic,  half  wonder- 
ing, half  comprehending  what  had  happened, 
sprang  forward  in  a  fury  and  fronted  his  Chief, 
hot  and  trembling.  "This  is  treachery!"  he 
cried  aloud  with  a  very  red  face.  "Treachery! 
Treason !  Chicanery !  You  could  have  no  good 
ground  for  such  trickery  as  that!  Not  from 
Ruric  Brassoff  himself  will  I  stand  this  treat- 


•M-.xly^ 


ERS. 

envelope.     Thus 
after  some  brief 
^ngcd   document 
hold  it  out  cau- 
•ith  his  own  two 
Mr.  Ilayward 
itho  thin  man — 
ally.     Quick  as 
ken,  the  Nihilist 
unawares,  and 
wrenched  them 
J  dropped  from 
ing  down  before 
is  pain  and  sur- 
ind  tore  it  open. 
>d ;  the  envelope 
h.     A  wood  fire 
ite  of  the  little 
ation,  Mr.  Hay- 
per  with  Owen's 
1st  of  the  flame, 
•urned  to  whito 
ip  the  chimney, 
)ark-bo8pangletl 

c,  half  wonder- 
had  happened, 
tited  his  Chief, 
breachery!"  he 
"Treachery! 
d  have  no  good 
at!  Not  from 
and  this  treat- 


UNDKR   SEALED   ORDERS. 


387 


ment.  Andyouare  j<o/ RuricBrassoff.  You're 
a  spy  of  tho  Cz'ir's."  Ho  snatched  a  revolver 
hurriedly  from  a  cabinet  by  hi.s  sido  .uid  cocked 
it  pointblaiik  at  him.  "Pretender!"  hoshrir'ked 
in  his  iiMp:)tent  rage:  "Liar!  hypocrite!  mou- 
clianir' 

Quick  as  thought,  IMr.  Hayward  drew  a  re- 
voU'er  in  turn — a  mere  toy  of  ii,  weapon  to  look 
at,  but  pdrfectly  finishpd  and  fitted  throughout, 
a  tine  triumph  of  workmanship.  He  pulled  it 
from  his  pocket  and  covered  his  man  with  it  in 
his  right;  with  his  left  he  dashed  back  Stefano- 
vic's  clumsier  pistol.  "Hold,  hold,  my  friend," 
he  said  shortly,  clasping  the  map.'s  delicate  wrist 
with  that  iron  grip  of  his.  "If  you  struggle,  I 
shoot.  I'm  your  official  superior.  It  is  not  for 
such  as  you  ti  judgo  of  my  acta  and  my  orders. 
The  society  as  a  whole  has  alone  the  right  to 
judge  of  them.  If  you  fire,  you  spoil  all.  You 
bring  everything  to  light.  You  explode  the  fra- 
ternity. Take  time  to  consider.  This  is  a  criti- 
cal p  >iat  in  our  history.  Hunt  me  down,  if  you 
will,  after  due  deliberation.  But  if  you  shoot 
me  now,  in  hot  blood,  what,  I  ask,  will  you  have 
accomplished?  All  Paris  and  Petersburg  will 
know  to-morrow  that  Valerian  Stefanovic  has 
shot  Ruric  Brassoff,  the  tyrant's  chief  enemy,  in 
a  private  yuarrel.  Then  everything  would  come 
out.  The  Cause  would  be  betrayed.  Poor  Rus 
sia  would  be  lost.  And  Alexis  SolLstoff  would 
have  good  reas  ju  to  laugh  in  his  sleeve  in  his 
comfortable  office  in  the  Third  Section."        i    ' 

Awed  by  that  strong  calm  voice,  Stefanovic 


'^'^- 


388 


UNDEa   SEALED   ORDERS. 


'  M 


paused  and  hesitatpd.  He  looked  at  his  man 
dtibiously.  Mr.  Hayward  still  held  the  tiny 
revolver  pointed  straight  at  his  follower's  head. 
As  Stefanov'3  doubted,  his  Chief,  hanging  for- 
ward, gave  once  more  a  sudden  curl  to  his  wrist, 
wrenched  the  revolver  from  his  grasp  with  that 
powerful  grip  as  of  a  Cossack  hand,  and  flung  it 
with  a  sweep  to  the  other  side  of  the  little  salon. 
It  alighted  harmlessly.  Then,  still  covering  his 
man  cautiously  with  his  own  toylike  weapon,  he 
went  on  iu  a  quieter  voice,  "Valerian  Stefano- 
vic,  don't  venture  t-i  bandy  words  or  dispute  my 
orders.  I  am  still  your  commander.  But  things 
have  turned  out  differently  from  my  expectations. 
I  don't  trust  you  so  implicitly  now  as  I  trusted 
you  some  months  ago.  You  must  accept  your 
tx>sition,  or  blow  everything  to  atoms.  "We  are 
standing  this  moment  on  the  edge  of  a  volcano. 
A  brawl  between  you  and  me  in  a  Paris  lodging 
house  would  be  fatal  to  the  Cause.  You  must 
see  that  for  yourself.  Don't  insist  upon  this 
folly." 

Stefanovic,  undecided,  fell  back  into  an  easy 
chair  and  glared  at  him  sullenlj%  "I  don't 
know  who  you  are,"  he  muttered  low,  with 
lurking  anger  in  his  voice.  "I'm  not  sure  my 
plain  duty  isn't  to  leap  at  your  throat  and 
choke  you." 

By  this  time  Mr.  Hayward  liad  regained  all 
his  natural  calmness.  "You're  not  sure,"  he 
answered  with  resolution,  "and  where  you're 
not  sure.  Valerian  Stefanovic,  the  wise  man's 
obvious  course  is — not  to  be  precipitate,  but  to 


.^^,  y*  i^■wf^^^)l^'i\y|^«^-^^l,v  :  t  .c-...f>.v  ,  v.,r'*v's»->^.'j,  ."f^i,'"  , 


^w 


ER8. 


ced  at  his  man 
held  the  tiny 
follower's  head, 
of,  hanging  for- 
surl  to  his  wrist, 
grasp  with  that 
nd,  and  flung  it 
the  little  salon. 
till  covering  his 
like  weapon,  lie 
ilerian  Stefano- 
Is  or  dispute  my 
ler.     But  things 
ny  expectations, 
ow  as  I  trusted 
mst  accept  your 
atoms.     We  are 
ge  of  a  volcano, 
a  Paris  lodging 
use.     You  must 
isist   upon   this 

3k  into  an  easy 
nly.  "I  don't 
)red  low,  with 
m  not  sure  my 
mr  throat  and 

id  regained  all 

not  sure,"  he 

wliero   j'-ou're 

tie  wise  man's 

jipitate,  but  to 


UNDER  SEALED   ORDERS. 


wait  and  take  counsel.  "Will  ymi,  on  your  sole 
responsibility,  wreck  a  whole  organization? 
Will  you  destroy  your  country?  Pause  and 
think  at  least  before  yuu  do  it.  And  remember, 
tho  mau  who  bids  you  pause  and  think  is  the 
Chief  of  the  Revolution— Ruric  Brassoff."- 

Stefanovic  rocked  himself  up  and  down  in  the 
chair,  as  regardless  of  the  pistol  whose  muzzle 
the  elder  man  still  held  pointed  at  his  temples 
as  if  it  had  been  a  child's  popgun.  "Well, 
Ruric  Brassoff,"  he  murmured  slowly  at  lasl, 
"if  Runo  Brassoff  you  are,  I  believe  you  to  be  a 
traitor.  But  I'll  pause  and  reflect,  as  you  say, 
for  I  recognize  in  your  hand-  the  one  that  so 
long  has  issued  me  orders.  Still,  I  won't  let 
the  Cause  suffer  by  my  own  uncertainty,  I  give 
you  fair  warning,  I  shall  write  to  our  friends  in 
Petersbui'g  and  Moscow  to  inform  them  of  this 
incident.  I'll  tell  them  exactly  by  what  ruse 
you  cheated  me.  It  will  be  for  them  to  decide. 
If  they  think  as  /  think,  then — "  he  rose  as  he 
spoke  and  faced  the  revolver  fearlessly — "then, 
Ruric  Brassoff,"  he  said, 'pointing  at  him  with 
one  skinny  finger,  like  embodied  fate,  "your 
brains  will  be  scattered  on  the  floor  with-as  little 
compunction  as  you'd  scatter  mine  this  minute 
if  I  refused  to  obey  you." 

Mr.  Hayward  let  the  revolver  drop  slightly  as 
he  "answered  in  a  very  quiet  toue,  "That's  well, 
friend  Stefanovic — very  well,  very  sensible.  You 
apeak  now  with  the  voice  of  a  good  revolutionist. 
Death  to  the  traitor,  is  the  law  of  our  being, 
the  bond  of  our  society.     On  no  other  basis  can 


390 


UNDER   SBAI.ED   ORDERS. 


a  conspiracy  dofoml  itself  against  internal  trea- 
eon.  I  accept  it  niVBelf;  kill  nio,  if  I  prove 
false;  but  I  don't  want  to  die  till  I've  done  the 
work  that  still  remains  for  mo.  And — I  like 
you  all  the  better  and  trust  you  all  the  more  for 
the  bold  frank  way  you've  spoken  ta-day  to  ine. 
If  you'd  sliot  me— well  and  good,  you'd  have 
committed  an  error  of  judgment;  but  I  confess 
you  would  have  been  right  in  the  main  impulse 
that  prompted  you." 

He  hated  himself  for  his  dtiplicity  and  back- 
sliding as  he  said  it.  On  his  own  code  of  ethics, 
he  knew  St«fanovic  was  right,  and  ho  himself 
was  wrong.  He  admired  the  mau  for  his  cour- 
age, his  steadfastne'js,  his  devotion.  This  was 
the  true  Nihilist  strain.  This  Avas  an  ally  to  be 
proud  of.  The  revolutionist  within  liim  recog- 
nized and  rejoiced  in  a  brother  soul.  "Well 
done,"  he  said,  after  a  short  pause.  "You  did 
riglit,  friend  Valerian." 

But  the  other  man  stit  down  again,  undisarmed 
in  soul,  and  confrontetl  him  once  more  with  a 
steely  eye  of  suspicion.  "That's  all  very  well 
in  its  way,"  he  said  sulkily,  "but  I  wish  I'd 
shot,  all  the  same.  Stone  dead  Las  no  fellow. 
However,  to  prevent  open  scandal,  I  waive  that 
point.  Only,  mind  you,  Ruric  Brassoff,  or  who- 
ever else  you  may  be,  you  shall  not  play  this 
trick  again  with  impunity  elsewhere.  I  shall 
write  to  all  the  heads  of  our  organization  in 
Russia  CO  warn  them  at  once  of  your  vile  plan 
of  action.  You  won't  get  any  more  sealed  en- 
velopes by  treachery,   I  can  promise    you.     I 


•  Jm  Mt. ' 


ER8. 

it  internal  trea- 
1110,  if  I  prove 
ill  I've  done  tbo 
And— I  like 
all  the  more  for 
en  t3-day  to  ine. 
)od,  you'd  have 
it ;  but  I  confess 
10  main  impulse 

licity  and  back- 
n  code  of  ethics, 
and  ho  himself 
lau  tor  his  cour- 
tion.  This  \vas 
■  as  an  ally  ta  be 
thin  him  recog- 
3r  soul.  "Well 
msc.     "You  did 

aiu,  undisarmed 
L'e  more  with  a 
'8  all  very  well 
'but  I  wish  I'd 
i  Las  no  fellow, 
ill,  I  waive  that 
Jrassoff,  or  who- 
ill  not  play  this 
where.  I  shall 
organization  in 
f  your  vile  plan 
more  sealed  en- 
romise    you.     I 


UNPER   SEALED    ORDERS. 


891 


shall  write  to  each  one  of  them — Ossinsky,  Fo- 
menko,  Clemens,  Lisogub,  everybody!  They 
shall  know  how  to  deal  with  you  when  j'ou 
present  yourself  before  them." 

A  danger  signal  loomed  distinct  before  Mr. 
Hay  ward's  inner  eye.  A  double  danger.  True 
Nihilist  that  he  was  still,  in  spite  of  this  episode, 
he  didn't  want  to  betray  his  Cause  to  the  Third 
Section.  And  in  his  burning  anxiety  for  Owen 
Cazalet's  safety  he  didn't  want  young  Sergius 
Selistofif's  alias  and  address  to  fall  Into  his  uncle 
Alexis's  hands  at  St.  'Petersburg  But  unless 
Stefanovic  would  be  warned  in  time,  that  might 
easily  happen.  For  he  might  write,  among  oth- 
ers, to  Ossinsky,  of  Kieff,  whom  the  police,  as 
Madame  Mireflf  wired  to  him,  had  lately  arrested. 

With  genuine  alarm  and  interest  gleaming 
bright  in  his  eye,  he  leaned  eagerly  forward. 
"Take  care  what  you  do,"  he  said  in  a  voice  oi 
solemn  warning.  "Whoever  else  you  write  to, 
don't  write  to  Ossinsky,  Our  trusted  friend  was 
arrested  at  Kiefif  some  ten  days  ago,  as  I  learn 
by  telegram  from  Olga  Mireff.  If  you  write  to 
him  your  letter  will  fall  into  the  hands  of  the 
spies,  and  then  all  will  be  up  with  both  of  us — 
with  the  Cause — with  Russia," 

"That's  false!"  Stefanovic  answered,  starting 
up  and  facing  him  with  clinched  fists,  like  a 
tiger  at  bay.  "That's  false!  Vou're  a  liar!  If 
Ossinsky  had  been  arrested  I  should  have  heard 
of  it  at  once.  Who  would  hear  before  me? 
You're  trying  to  intimidate  me.  You're  a  spy  t 
you're  a  niouchardr'  -       -v-  -^ 


'~.i 


4 

^1 


892 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


Mr.  Haywnrd  drow  u  telegram  trininpbantly 
from  liis  poc-ket  tiiul  handed  it  to  the  man  with 
a  smile.     Stofauovic    glanced   at    it    sidevvise. 

"Just  mxived  across  tlie  Gorman  frontier. 
Couldn't  communimito  before.  Am  returning 
now  poHt  Iiaato  to  England.  Very  aerioua  iio'.v.s. 
OsBiiLsky  arrastod  ten  days  ago  at  Kietf.  All  is 
known,  except  the  English  name  of  Sergius 
Selistoflf's  son.  That  they  can't  find  out.  But 
the  danger  ia  graat.  Smuprgle  him  away  at 
ouco,  for  Heaven's  sake..         Glca  Mikeff." 

"You  see,"  Mr.  Hayward  said  gravely,  "I 
havo  good  reason  for  my  action." 

But  Valerian  Stefanovic  gazed  at  him  fixedly 
■with  stern  Macchiavellian  eyes  as  he  answered 
between  his  teeth  under  his  wiry  mustache, 
"This  is  false.  This  is  forgery.  This  is  lies, 
and  you  know  it.  If  it  wore  true,  Olga  Mireff 
would  have  telegraphed  to  me.  I'll  bo  careful 
what  I  do.  I'll  compromise  nobody.  But,  Ruric 
Brassoff  or  spy,  I  distrust  j'ou,  I  distrust  you!" 


m-.: 


«»,  {.< 


->->.>.  Sk* 


Kits. 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


898 


tn  triumphantly 
to  tho  man  with 
Ht    i  t    siilewise. 

ormaii   frontier. 

Am  returuing 
ry  aerioua  news. 
,t  Kioff.  All  is 
une   of    Sergius 

find  out.  But 
)   him   away   at 

iGA  MiREFP." 

aid  gravely,  "I 

i  at  him  fixedly 
as  he  answered 
wiry  mustache, 
y.  This  is  lies, 
ue,  Olga  Mireff 
I'll  bo  careful 
4y.  But,  Ruric 
[  distrust  you!" 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 


TO   MOSCOW  1 


It  was  with  a  heavy  heart  indeed  that  Mr. 
Hayward  returned  that  morning  to  his  comfort- 
able hotel  in  the  Rue  de  la  Paix.  For  his  chance 
of  saving  Owen  and  lone  depended  entirely  upon 
the  recovery,  unopened,  of  the  sealed  envelopes. 
But  the  dangers  in  the  way  were  now  great  and 
twofold,  n  Stefanovic  wrote  direct  to  Michael 
Fomenko  at  Moscow,  that  brother  revolutionist 
would  inforrh  the  whole  Nihilist  party  in  Russia 
and  the  wol^v;  of  their  Chief's  defection;  the  en- 
velope would  be  broken,  its  secret  divulged,  and 
no  'stone  would  be  left  unturned  by  the  entire  or- 
ganization to  punish  Dwen  Cazalet  for  his  deser- 
tion of  their  coiimon  principles.  And  if  on  the 
other  hand  Stefanovic  wrote  direct  to  Ossinsky 
at  Kieflf,  then  the  letter  would  inevitably  fall  into 
the  hands  of  General  Selistoff 's  spies,  and  Owen's 
life  would  be  rendered  doubly  insecure  by  the 
hostility  alike  of  the  revolutionists  and  of  the 
Russian  government.  Both  parties  at  once  would 
pursue  him  as  a  traitor  with  rele^ntless  energy. 

What  annoyed  Mr.  Hayward  most,  however, 
in  this  difficult  crisis,  was  his  inability  to  get 


3f>4 


UNDER  SEALED   OHDEK8. 


Hway  ttt  oiico  to  Borliti  and  Moscdw.  He  was 
lon(?iiif<  to  go,  afid  to  coimnuuicjito  with  Olga 
Min)lV,  who  might  bo  able,  ho  hoiwd,  either  to 
intorvono  on  his  ht'half  with  Valoriun  Stofanovic, 
ortoprovonttheinan's  lottorsovor  reaching  Kiofi: 
and  so  boing  seized  en  route  by  the  ropresenta- 
tiv«»!:',  of  tho  Third  Section.  Madanu.  Mireff's  jjo- 
culia.  jiositioii  as  the  siipposf'd  friend  and  ally  of 
General  Selistoff  and  the  Czar  inado  her  aid  uh- 
Ijecially  dcbi Pablo  at  such  a  juncture.  Shaiing, 
as  she  did,  tho  secrets  of  both  sides,  she  was  iiblo 
from  time  to  time  to  do  the  Cause  guod  service 
which  none  but  such  a  clever  and  resourceful 
diplomatist  would  have  had  the  power  to  render 
it.  But,  unfortunately,  on  the  very  threshold, 
delays  and  difHculties  arose  over  the  question  of 
passports.  Mr.  Hayward  was  determined  to  go 
to  Russia,  and  had  brought  with  him  for  the  pur- 
pose the  usual  perfunctory  Foreign  Office  docu- 
ment, issued  in  the  name  of  Henry  Mortimer,  a 
British  subject — his  former  partner.  It  was  neces- 
sary, however,  to  get  the  visa  of  the  Russian 
embassy  at  Paris ;  and  over  this  visa,  unexpected 
Iffouble  cropped  up,  which  it  took  Mr.  Hayward 
two  clear  days  to  surmount,  not  to  mention  a 
certain  sum  of  very  hard  swearing.  The  Nihilist 
Chief  wasn't  a  man  to  fret  and  fume  over  trifles; 
but  this  inopportune  delay  caused  him  no  small 
anxietj\  For  perhaps  before  he  could  reach  fJer- 
lin,  Stefanovic's  letters  would  be  well  on  their 
Way  for  Kieff  and  Moscow,  and  Owen's  fate 
would  be  sealed,  either  by  Michael  Fomenko  or 
by  Alexis  Selistoff.  ,  . .  -  .^-    -,       ,; 


SH8. 

iscovv.  IIo  wa?i 
•fito  with  Olgii 
ioiHid,  eitlier  to 
rian  Stofunovio, 

•  rejichiny  Kioff 
the  fopn'si'utu- 

vmt  Mireft"s  pe- 
leud  and  ally  of 
iiiido  her  aid  uh- 
ture.  Shaiing, 
lb,  sho  was  kblo 
ISO  guod  servico 
and  rosonrcofiil 
power  to  render 
very  threshold, 

•  the  question  of 
etermined  to  go 
aim  for  the  pur- 
ign  Office  docu- 
ary  Mortimer,  a 
>r.  It  was  xieces- 
of  the  Russian 
u'sa,  unexpected 
:  Mr,  Hayward 
)t  to  mention  a 
r.^  Tlie  Nihilist 
ime  over  trifles; 
1  him  no  small 
30uld  reach  Uer- 
)e  well  on  their 
id  Owen's  fate 
ael  Fomenko  or 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


n»5 


At  last,  however,  all  difficulties  were  smoothed 
Hway;  hard  swearing  produced  its  due  reward; 
the  passport  wfis  correctly  examined  and  rise; 
and  Henry  Mortimer,  gentleman,  a  British  sub- 
ject, on  his  travels  on  the  Continent,  under  the 
protec;tion  of  all  foreign  princes,  potentates,  and 
powers,  took  the  fast  through  train  from  the 
dare  du  Nord  for  Berlin. 

He  went  straight  on  arrival  to  the  Continental, 
the  big  fashionable  hotel  opposite  the  Friedrides- 
trasse    railway    station.      Madame   Miroff   was 
there  already  waiting  for  him  by  appointment. 
Mr.  Hayward  lost  no  time  in  seeing  her  ami  ex- 
plaining in  part  the  object  of  his  visit.     Olga 
Mireff  listened,  all  respectful  attention.     Not  a 
shadow  of  mistrust  disturbed  her  perfect  confi- 
dence.    For  her,  at  least,  it  was  clear  the  Cause 
and   the  man  were  one;  women  can  grasp  the 
abstract  only  through  the  aid  of  a  concrete  form ; 
sho  had  so  implicit  a  belief  in  Ruric  BrassoflP 
that  whatever  he  said  was  to  her  the  embodied 
voice  of  all  free  Russia. 

As  for  the  Chief,  he  broke  his  plan  to  her  by 
very  tentative  stages.  Events  had  occurred,  ho 
said,  as  he  told  her  in  London,  which  rendered 
it  impossible  for  Owen  Cazalet,  who  was  also  as 
she  knew  Sergius  Selistoff  the  younger,  to  enter 
the  English  diplomatic  service.  He  wouldn't  ex- 
plain to  her  in  full  what  those  events  were ;  he 
wouldn't  defend  his  action;  ho  was  Ruric  Brass- 
off;  that,  he  hoped,  would  be  enough  for  her. 
Olga  Mireff  could  trust  him.  It  had  become 
necessary,   however,   as   a  consequence  of  tBs 


'^;t 


f 
■■'4- 

•I 


3»(t 


UNDER  BKALEI)   ORIiKRS. 


'ohHnge  of  front,  mid  of  OMaiiiHky'H  iirroHt,  that 
he  Hhouhl  go  to  RusMiti  in  laTson,  in  order  to 
recovor  piwHOHsion  of  ci'rtiiiii  ooinpromiHin;^  piipfrH 
wliii'h  might  othorwiMu  chuho  l)otli  ( )A'on  and  liiin- 
solf  Vory  soriouH  trouhlo.  And  lio  wiw  going  thero 
alniuHt  at  onco — diroct  to  Mohcovv. 

Miuiiinjo  Miroff  guvo  ii  atiirt.  *'T(,i  lluHsifi!" 
Bhu  rriod.  "To  Mihoow!  Oil,  liuric  MnisHoff, 
no!  Lot  n»i»  go  in  your  place.  Don't  expowo 
yonr  siicrod  lioftd!  Don't  trnst  yonraolf  in  tlutt 
country!" 

Mr.  lliiyward  lifted  hiw  hand,  palm  open  ho- 
foro  him,  dopre<;atingly.  "Not  that  name,  Olga; 
not  that  name!"  ho  whispered  low.  "Here,  1 
am  Henry  Mortimer,  a  British  Huhjoct.  But  I 
must  go,  all  tiie  Hame.  To  Ilussia.  To  Mos- 
cow. No  one  on  earth  hut  myself  could  ijorfoini 
my  business." 

"The  risk's  so  ;^reat!"  madamo  cried,  treni- 
bling  with  anxiety.  "In  Russia,  you  have  every- 
where to  nui  the  gauntlet  of  so  mu(^h  police  es- 
pionage. Whenuis,  for  me,  all's  made  so  easy. 
I've  Alexis  Selistoff's  recommendation  wherever 
I  go.  I've  the  weight  of  the  Aristocracy  and  the 
Bureaucracy  at  my  back.  I  have  hut  to  show 
my  card,  and  the  mere  name,  'Olga  Mircff,'  is 
my  i^asapart  everywhere.  Nobody  Ihinks  of  (lues- 
tioning  me.  I'm  the  friend  of  the  administra- 
tion," 

Mr.  Hayward  shook  his  head  gravely, 
"l^our're  a  faitliful  adherent,  Olga,"  he  said 
with  that  calm  air  of  command  that  sat 
him  so  easily;  "a  most  faithful  adherent. 


!«Sfi»»«"Hii.S*i 


:-ifAi», 


upon        I 
But        I 

■■■ 


RR8. 

ky'rt  iirrcBt,  tlmt 
lun,  in  order  to 
iroiniHinf^imptTrt 
L  ( )A'i)n  iiud  liiin- 
wiiHf^oing  tli(;>ro 
v. 

"Tf.  liuHsia!" 

Iviiric   HriisHoff, 

Don't   expoHo 

youiHolf  iu  thitt 

,  palm  optni  hv- 
luit  luimo,  Olgii; 
1..W.  "Hero,  1 
Kubjoct.  But  I 
XHs'm.  To  Mos- 
If  could  i)orfoi!n 

mo  criod,  trein- 
you  havo  evory- 
miK^h  police  os- 
i  niado  HO  easy, 
lation  wherever 
stocraoy  and  the 
ive  hut  to  show 
Olga  Mireff,'  is 
y  thinks  of  (lues- 
the  administra- 

hoad  gravely. 
Olga,"  he  said 
I  that  sat  upon 
adherent.     But 


l^NOKR   SKAI-KP   ()KT>KR«, 


3(^7 


how  often  Hlmll  I  have  to  tell  you  that  your  ssoal 
at  timoH  outruns  your  diwrotion?  I  don't  ask 
you  for  HU(!h  aid.  I  ank  for  <vlt«Mlienco.  LiHteu 
well  to  what  I  say,  and  make  no  private  HUg- 
gestions." 

A  little  red  spot  hurned  tiery  hright  in  Olga 
Mireff'fl  cheek ,  hut  she  gave  no  reltullious  an- 
swer. Hor  rev(>renoi>  for  lluric  BriisHoflf  was  t<M) 
deep  to  permit  it.  "I  ft)rgot,"  she  answere<l 
meekly.  "I  rate  your  life  so  high,  that  I  can't 
bear  without  a  protest  to  hoar  of  your  risking  it, 
if  any  other  of  less  value  would  answer  ns  well. 
But  you  of  comse  know  best.  I  am  all  obedi- 
ence." 

She  bowed  her  head  and  blushed  crimson.    Mr. 
Hayward  watched  hor  dose  as  ho  wont  on  to 
explain  to  her  in  tentative  terms  what  he  wished 
her  to  do,  with  the  air  of  a  general  who  issues 
orders  to  his   attentive  subordinates.     She  was 
to  remain  in   Berlin  for  the  present  under  her 
own  name,  and  he  would  tolograph  progress  inJ 
her  daily  as  Henry  Mortimer.     The  telegrams 
would  be  a  reference  to  an  imaginary  illness  of 
an  imaginary  son,  and  would  moan  merely  th.tt 
all  was  going  well  up  to  date— no  danger  ex- 
pected.    But  it  any  day  no  telegram  arrived  bo' 
fore  twelve  o'clock,  no:>n,  then  she  would  know 
he  was  either  arrested  or  in  flight  for  his  life.    In 
that  case,  she  was  to  proceed  by  the  first  train  to 
St.  Petersburg,  and  to  call  at  once  on  Genera) 
Selistoff,  so  as  to  worm  out  the  circumstances. 
She  could  make  an  excuse  for  her  unexpected 
return  by  giving  the  General  some  unimportant 


■I  •; 


.♦•%a 


398 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDEHS. 


unsigned  intercepted  letter  from  u  London  Ni- 
hilist, and  pretending  to  have  discovered  from 
it  that  Ruric  BrasHaff  was  in  Russia.  That 
would  prove  her  watchfulness.  "And  if  I'm 
arrested  and  taken  to  Petersburg,"  the  Chief 
went  on,  very  solemnly,  "1  shall  no  doubt  be 
examined  in  Alexis  Selistoff's  office.  Or  per- 
hajis  ho  may  come  to  Moscow  to  prevent  remov- 
ing me.  Well,  tako  care  you're  there:  be  cau- 
tioua;  be  firm;  and  watch  what  I  say,  to  govern 
yourt^elf  accordingly." 

Madame  Mireff's  lips  twitched;  but  she  an- 
swered without  any  apparent  qualm,  "Yes,  I 
will.     You  can  trust  me." 

Mr.  Hay  ward  took  slowly  from  his  inner  breast 
pocket  a  little  revolver  of  very  fine  workman- 
ship. It  was  the  same  with  which  he  had  con- 
fronted Valerian  Stefanovic  in  his  rooms  at 
Paris.  He  handed  the  pretty  toy  across  to  her 
— a  marvel  of  modern  skill,  the  final  flower  in 
.the  evolution  of  pocset  firearms.  "Take  this, 
Olga,"  he  said  calmly.  "It's  very  preciouy. 
You  can  smuggle  it  across  the  frontier  more 
easily  than  I  can.  You  won't  be  searched. 
I  may  be.  At  ci:\v  rate,'  tako  it.  I  may  have 
need  of  it  in  Petersburg  if  ever  we  meet  there. 
It's  a  beautiful  little  instrument.  Carry  it  about 
with  you  always  in  the  bosom  of  your  dress, 
wherever  you  go;  for  we  can  n^ver  tell  before- 
hand at  what  minute  it  may  be  WKuted." 

Madame  Mireff  took  it  reverently,  raised  his 
hand  to  her  lips,  and  kissed  it  as  she  did  so. 
Mr.  Hayward  accepted  the  kiss  with  all  the 


'«■.'»>»■-'»*-  ■a<v-w'i^*>**-'- 


)KDEii8. 

rora  it,  Loudon  Ni- 
vo  discovered  from 

in  Russia.  That 
jss.  "And  it  I'm 
sburg,"   the  Chief 

shall  no  doubt  be 
''s  office.  Or  per- 
V  to  prevent  remov- 
u're  there:  be  cau- 
lat  I  say,  to  govern 

tched;  but  she  an' 
it  qualm,  "Yes,    I 

"om  his  inner  breast 
ery  fine  workman- 
which  he  had  con- 
in  his  rooms  at 
y  toy  across  to  her 

the  final  flov»rer  in 
,rms.  "Take  this, 
It's  very  preciouy. 
the  frontier  more 
.'on't  be  searched. 
:o  it.  I  may  have 
sver  we  meet  there, 
jnt.  Carry  it  about 
iom  of  your  dress, 
1  n^ver  tell  before- 
l>e  w>;nted." 
rerently,  raised  his 

it  as  she  did  so. 

kiss  with  all  the 


^43 


UNDER  SEAT^ED   ORDERS. 


399 


dignity  of  a  monarch.  It  was  clear  she  was 
stanch;  woman  -  like,  she  sbono  brightest  in 
personal  devotion.  No  qualms  like  Stefanovic's, 
there;  no  doubts,  no  suspicions.  "I  will,"  she 
answered  once  more,  still  holding  his  hand  in 
hers.  "Dear  friend,  I  may  not  say  your  name 
aloud,  it  seems,  but  I  utter  it  in  my  heart.  I 
am  yours,  for  Russia.  I  give  you  my  body; 
I  give  you  my  soul.  Take  me;  do  as  you  will 
with  me." 

She  looked  at  him  with  her  great  eyes.  Mr. 
Hayward  bowed  silently.  Then  they  talked  on 
for  some  minutos  more,  the  Chief  giving  direc- 
tions in  a  most  matter-of-fact  voice  — for  he 
wouldn't  give  way—how  Madame  Mireff  was 
to  behave  under  certain  contingencies,  and  ma- 
dame  list;c;v:ng  to  them  with  the  eagerness  of  a 
young  girl  to  her  lover.  At  last,  he  turned  to 
her  suddenly  and  asked  in  a  different  tone,  "And 
have  you  seen  anything  of  our  friends  since 
you've  been  here  in  Berlin?" 

"Very  little,  very  few  of  them,"  madame  an- 
swered, coming  back  to  herself  from  a  dreamy 
cloud  land.  "Everybody  here  knows  me  as  the 
Czar's  agent  in  England,  and  I  have  to  be  care- 
ful accordingly ;  fof  the  two  or  three  faithful  in 
Berlin  and  ciiarlottenburg  are  suspected  by  the 
police  and  watched  very  closely.  But  I  did  just 
manage  to  have  a  word  or  two  in  private  with 
my  cousin  Tania  to-day ;  and  by  the  way,  Tania 
told  me  a  piece  of  bad  news  which  this  more  im- 
portant matter  of  yours  half  put  out  of  my  head 
for  the  moment,  but  which  you  certainly  ought 


'm 


'■i 


400 


rXDER   SEALED   OKDERS. 


"r*^fc 


to  know  at  once.     It  was  about  Ossinsky's  ar- 
rest, or  rather  one  of  its  consequences,     Tania 
hadn't   heard   Ossinsky   was    taken;    for    sonn' 
reason  or  other,    our  friends   at   Kieff  seenieil 
afraid  to  write  or  telegraph  to  her;  so  she  com 
mittod   quite   unwittingly   a   most    unfortunate 
mistake.     She  sent  on  letters  to  Ossinsky,  ad 
dressed  to  her  here,  which  of  course  will   fall 
now  into  the  hands  of  Alexis  Selistoff's  myr 
midons."  * 

Mr.  Hayward  gave  a  start  of  sur^jfise  and 
alai-m.  "Letters  to  Ossinsky!"  he  exclaimel 
taken  aback.  "From  whom,  and  from  where". 
This  is  serious  indeed.  Did  she  know  their 
contents?'' 

Madame  saw  ho  was  deeply  moved,  "From 
Paris,  I  think, "  she  answered,  trembling.  "From 
Valerian  Stefanovic~so  Tania  told  ^me.  H- 
wrote  to  her,  urging  her  strongly  to  forwanl 
these  letters,  which  ho  said  were  important,  t  ■ 
Ossinsky  at  Kieff,  and  to  Fomenko  at  Moscow. 
So  she  forwarded  them  at  once  bj'  the  usual 
channels.  I  don't  know  the  contents,  though. 
Stefanovic  told  Tania  nothing  more  about  them 
than  that  they  were  of  immediate  and  pressing 
necessity." 

Mr.  Hayward  rose  fi'ora  his  sesit  and  paced  uj) 
and  down  the  room  in  a  turmoil  of  doubt  and 
fear — not  for  himself,  but  for  Owen.  "This  is 
terrible,"  he  cried  at  last.  "You  can't  think 
what  she's  done.  Ossinsky's  letters  would  of 
courae  be  seized  at  Kieff.  They  would  doubt- 
less contain  some  allusion  to  the  others  Stefan* 


J.     i  _. 


i>^.!«t4s.Siii«»f4<'.y;3«^MtMia^i^8»ipr;M|K9^ 


DER8. 

ut  Ossinsky's  ar- 
equonces,  Tania 
taken;  for  sonic 
at  Kieff  seenicnl 
her;  so  she  com 
(lost  unfortunate 
to  Ossinsky,  ail 
course  will  fall 
I  Sclistoff' 8  myr 

of  sur^jfise  and 
!"  he  exclaimel 
and  from  where  V 

she  know   their 


"From 
"Prom 


moved, 
•embling 
a  told  me.  fL  • 
>ngly  to  forward 
ere  important,  t  > 
enko  at  Moscow, 
ice  bj'  the  usual 
jontents,  though, 
more  about  them 
ate  and  pressing 


UNDEE  SBALKD  OEDER8. 

ovic  had  sent  to  Fomenkoat  Moscow.  Fomenko 
would  be  arrested,  too,  and  with  him  would  be 
arrested  most  damaging  papers.  But  that's  not 
all.  Before  ho  could  be  taken,  he  might  do 
much  harm.  He  might  divulge  to  others  a 
fundamental  secret  I  wished  kept  most  invio-  , 
lablo.  He  might  ruin  all.  He  might  explode 
the  whole  mine.  I  must  go  on— at  on^e— by  the 
first  train— to  Moscaw." 

Madame  Mireff  started  to  her  feet.  The  wo- 
man within  her  overcame  her.  "No,  no!"  she 
cried,  flinging  her  arms  round  him  in  a  transport 
of  tertor.  "You  mustn't!  You  mustn't!  For 
Russia's  sake,  you  must  stop.  Don't  venture 
to  go.     Don't  expose  yourself  to  this  danger!" 

A  deadly  pallor  spread  over  Ruric  Brassoff's 
white  face.  For  Russia's  sake!  What  a  mock- 
ery !  When  he  was  sacrificing  Russia  to  lone- 
and  Owen!  He  unwound  her  arms  slowly.  He 
stood  erect  and  immovable.  "For  Russia's  sake," 
he  said  in  a  very  cold  stern  voice,  for  he  was  sen- 
tencing himself  to  death,  "I  must  go;  I  must 
give  myself  up ;  I  must  brave  the  unspeakable. 
For  Rus-iia's  sake,  I  must  die.  It's  all  I  can 
do  now  for  her  " 


esit  and  paced  up 
)il  of  doubt  and 
Owen.  "This  is 
You  can't  think 
letters  would  of 
ey  would  doubt- 
le  others  Stefan* 


.     UNDER  SEALBD  ORDEBS. 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 


/  TBAPS      FOR      FOXKS. 

Alexis  Selistoff  sat  in  a  very  good  humor 
in  his  cabinet  at  the  Bureau  of  Police  in  St. 
Petersburg.  'Twas  with  evident  gusto  that  the 
Chief  of  the  Third  Section  twirled  the  ends  of 
his  gray  mustache  between  his  big  bronzed  fin- 
gers. Tall,  well-set,  erect,  a  great  giant  to  look 
upon,  with  his  commanding  face  and  clear-cut, 
classical  features,  Alexis  Selistoflf  seemed  the 
very  picture  of  what  Owen  Cazalet  might  be- 
come after  forty-five  years  of  military  service 
in  Russia.  To  the  towering  height  and  colossal 
limbs  of  all  his  kin  he  added  the  fine  bearing  and 
stem  methodical  air  of  a  well-trained  soldier. 
But  in  spite  of  his  cheerful  mien,  a  grim  smile 
played  round  the  corners  of  those  cruel  thin  lips. 

"This  is  good,  Nikita,"  he  murmured,  musi- 
cally, to  his  chief  dork,  in  pleased  and  ruminat- 
ing tones.  "We've  run  our  vermin  to  earth  at 
last !  We  shall  cage  them  soon,  now,  these  bur- 
rowing underground  foxes!"  "      ." 

"Number  Four  still  baffles  us,  though!"  Ihe 
chief  clerk  remarked,  pensively. 

"Number  Four  still  baffles  us,"  Alexis  Selis- 


j»(<;  ■*«*» ' 


:s. 

r  good  humor 
Police  in  St. 
gusto  that  the 
Bfl  the  ends  of 
?  bronzed  fin- 
;  giant  to  look 
and  clear-cut, 
T  seemed  the 
let  might  be- 
[litary  service 
it  and  colossal 
e  bearing  and 
aiued  soldier, 
a  grim  smile 
ruel  thin  lips, 
•mured,  musi- 
and  ruminat- 
in  to  earth  at 
)\v,  these  bur- 

thoiigh!"  <he 

Alexis  Selis- 


■^SfflPSK' 


UNDER  SEALED   ORDERS 


toff  echoed,  with  another  slow  twirl  at  the  waxed 
gray  ends.  "But  the  re.^t's  all  plain  sjiiling.  It 
was  clear,  even  to  start  with,  from  Ossinsky's 
papers,  tliat  we  have  to  deal  here  with  a  plot  of 
that  reptile  Ruric  Brassoff's.  It  was  clear  the 
ringleader  had  communicated  some  secret  of 
prime  iniportanco  to  three  other  persons  and 
three  others  cnly.  That  secret,  I  take  it  for 
granted,  had  reference  to  this  boy  or  young  man 
designated  in  their  cipher  as  Number  Five  Hun- 
dred. Now,  Number  Five  Hundred,  whoever 
he  may  bo,  is  living  in  Eii inland.  And  there 
we  can  set  Madame  Mireflf  on  the  trail  to  catch 
him." 

"Has  it  ever  occurred  to  your  excellency  to 
consider,"  the  chief  clerk  ventured  to  suggest 
with  \ery  tentative  hesitation,  "that  Number 
Five  Hundred  might  not  impossibly  be — " 

With  a  terrible  frown,  Alexis  Selistoff  cut 
him  short. 

"Sir."  he  thundered  out,  turning  round  upon 
him,  as  a  terrier  turns  on  a  wounded  rat,  and 
annihilating  him  with  one  glance  from  those 
formidable  eyes  of  his,  "keep  yiur  suggestions 
till  they're  asked  for.  How  dare  you  presiume 
to  dictate?  Don't  forget  your  place.  And  be 
careful  how  you  implicate  members  of  important 
families." 

For,  though  Alexis  Selistoff  didn't  mind  ac- 
knowledging (with  a  shudder)  to  Olga  Mireff, 
a  noblevroman  born  and  his  own  equal  in  rank, 
that  his  brother  Sergius's  son  wa3  a  possible 
traitor  and  Nihilist,  he  couldn't  bring  himself 


f  i 


■li  • 


Wu 


404 


tTNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


to  eniiure  that  a  mere  departmental  clerk  like 
this  fellow  Nikita  should  dare  to  cast  aspersioue 
of  so  damning  a  character  upon  his  nephew  and 
heir  of  his  suj^erior  officer.  And  he  felt  instinc- 
tively sure  his  subordinate  was  on  the  very  point 
of  saying,  "Has  it  ever  occurred  ta  your  excel- 
lency to  consider  that  Number  Five  Hundred 
might  not  impossibly  be  your  excellency's  own 
nephew,  Sergius  Selistoflf  the  younger?"  That 
was  an  insult  no  issue  of  the  Selistoff  blood  would 
ever  brook  for  a  moment  from  a  whipper-snapper 
of  a  secretary. 

The  chief  clerk  withered  up.  He  retired  into 
Ins  shell. 

"Your  excellency  was  observing?"  he  said, 
with  the  cov^ed  air  of  a  whipped  spaniel. 

Alexis  Selistoff  leaned  back  in  his  swinging 
chair  and  composed  himself. 

"I  was  observing,"  he  went  on,  still  somewhat 
ruffled  by  the  contretemps,  "that  from  the  very 
first  we  knew  Ossinsky  to  be  one  of  three  persons 
intrusted  by  Ruric  Brassoff  with  some  fatal 
secret.  These  latest  letters  just  intercepted  at 
Kieff  and  forwarded  here  this  morning  supply 
us  with  two  new  facts  of  considerable  value. 
They  show  us  conclusively  that  the  second  of  the 
three  persons  is  Valerian  Stefanovic,  a  refugee 
at  Paris ;  and  Valerian  Stefanovic  has  now  lost 
the  clew.  We  have  thus  only  one  person  left  of 
the  original  three:  the  person  denoted  in  the 
cipher  as  Number  Four.  And  Number  Four, 
we  now  know,  must  be  living  at  Moscow." 

"Unless  we  can  get  Number  Four's  real  name 


^JiiHikti*~ 


ntal  clerk  like 

;aBt  aspersions 

is  nephew  and 

le  felt  instinc- 

the  very  point 

to  your  excel- 

''ive  Hundred 

cellency's  own 

nger?"     That 

ff  blood  would 

hipper-suapper 

le  retired  into 

ag?"  he  said, 
pauiol. 
his  swinging 

still  somewhat 
from  the  very 
f  three  persons 
h  some  fatal 
intercepted  at 
orning  supply 
lerable  value. 
)  second  of  the 
vie,  a  refugee 
?  has  now  lost 
person  left  of 
3noled  ill  the 
STumber  Pour, 
loacow." 
ir's  real  name 


UNDER  SEALED   ORDERS 


and  address,"  Nikita  put  in,  timidly,  "I  don't 
see — subject  to  your  escellency's  opinion — that 
the  present  find  brings  us  much  nearer  identify- 
ing him." 

"Then  I  do,"  General  Selistoff  answered, 
scanning  one  of  the  papers  close  with  his  keen 
eye  like  a  ferret's.  "I  see  a  great  deal.  I  see 
my  way  out  of  it.  I  see  this  means,  not  only 
that  we  shall  catch  Number  Four  and  crush  this 
particular  plot — which  is  in  itself  no  small  ad- 
vantage— but  also  that  we  stand  a  fair  chance 
at  liist  of  discovering  and  arresting  Ruric  Brass- 
off."        .:  . 

"In  my  humble  opinion,"  the  chief  clerk  said, 
deferentially,  "Prince  Ruric  Brassoff  will  never 
dare  to  show  his  face  again  in  Russia." 

"I'm  not  so  sure  of  that,"  the  general  answered 
with  decision,  still  gazing  hard  at  the  crabbed 
square  of  cipher.  "It's  clear _from  all  these  let- 
ters contain  that  475  is,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  a 
very  important  person.  Now,  475  was  in  Paris 
last  week,  and  had  an  interview  in  the  Rue  des 
Saints  P6res  with  the  man  Stefanovic.  As  Stef- 
anovic  believed,  475,  at  the  time  of  writing,  was 
then  on  his  way  to  Kieff  and  Moscow.  No  other 
person,  I  assume,  except  Ruric  Brassoff  could 
be  spoken  of  in  terms  of  such  profound  s'ccrecy. 
For  even  while  Stefanovic  denounces  and  de- 
claims against  475,  as  a  traitor  to  the  Cause,  he 
is  obviously  terrified  for  his  own  safety ;  he  fears 
475's  power  and  475's  vengeance.  Now,  who 
should  that  be  if  it's  not  Ruric  Brassoff?"  He 
scanned  the  letter  still  closer;  then  jotted  down 


'::-y4*-^Ai'4. 


!'     i 


-  II. 


:Jl!..: 


406 


UNDER  SEALED   ORDERS. 


f: 


a  stray  word  or  two  casually  on  a  blotting  pad. 
"Hal  ba!  See  bere!"  he  exclaimed,  in  sur- 
prise, holding  the  paper  up  triumphantly. 
"Look  what  I've  discovered  now.  By  the 
cipher,  47  would,  of  course,  be  B,  and  5  would 
be  R.  They  reverse  their  initialH.  That  gives 
you  B.  R  :  equals  R.  B.— Ruric  Brassoff." 

"It  looks  very  like  it,"  the  chief  clerk  an- 
swered, cautiously,  surveying  the  paper. 

"Very  like  it!"  Alexis  Selistoff  went  on,  de- 
lighted at  his  own  intuition.  "Tut,  tut,  tut, 
man !  It's  tlie  thing  itself.  We're  on  his  track; 
that's  certain.  These  letters  imply  that  other 
communications  to  the  same  effect  were  sent  by 
the  same  means  to  Number  Four  at  Moscow. 
Number  One  doesn't  exist;  Number  Two's  Stef- 
anovic;  Number  Three's  Ossinsky;  Number 
Four — well,  Number  Four  we  shall  know  to- 
morrow. I  see  a  clear  means  for  getting  at  him 
directly." 

"You  do?"   the  chief  clerk  exclaimed.     ■"  * 

"Yes,  I  do,"  the  general  answered.  "See 
here."  He  raised  one  finger  with  didactic  con- 
clusiveness. "The  man  Stefanovic,  when  he 
sent  these  letters  from  Paris,  was  clearly  un 
aware  that  Ossinsky  had  been  arrested  a  fort- 
night ago  at  Kieff.  So  also  was  the  person  or 
persons  unknown  who  redirect*)d  them  on  from 
Berlin  or  Charlottenburg.  If  Ruric  Brassoflf — 
for  we'll  take  it  for  granted  for  the  present 
Number  Four  Hundred  and  Seventy-five  is 
Ri^ric  Brassoff — if  Ruric  Brassoflf  remains  alst) 
unaware  of  tlie  fact,  then  he'll  come  on  direct 


l<l;. 


IKS. 


UNDER  SEALED   ORDERS. 


a  blotting  pad. 
aimed,  in  sur- 
triumphantly. 
now.  By  tho 
i,  and  5  would 
1h.  Tliat  gives 
Brasaoff." 
chief  clerk  an- 
i  ptiper. 

)ff  went  on,  de- 
Tut,  tut,  tut, 
re  on  his  track; 
iply  that  fither 
ct  were  sent  by 
>ur  at  Moscow, 
ber  Two's  Stef- 
Qsky;  Number 
shall  know  to- 
getting  at  him 

sclaimed. 
iswered.  "See 
h  didactic  con- 
3vic,  when  he 
as  clearly  un- 
xrested  a  fort- 
i  the  person  or 
them  on  from 
iric  Brassoff— 
)r  the  present 
3venty-five  is 
F  remains  also 
come  on  direct 


to  Ossinsky's  house  at  Kioff;  and  there  we'll 
catch  him  easily.  But  it  isn't  likely  that'll 
happen.  The  people  ut  Kieff  would  bo  sure  to 
communicate  at  onco  the  fact  of  Ossinsky's  ar- 
rest to  that  mysterious  woman,  ciphered  as 
Number  Forty-three,  whom  Madame  Mireff  has 
followed  about  so  indefatigably  round  Europe, 
and  whom  she  tracked  tho  other  day  to  a  house 
in  Berlin.  Number  Forty-three,  in  turn,  would 
no  doubt  communicate  it  at  once  to  Ruric  Braas- 
off.  So  Ruric  Brassoff  won't  go  to  Kielf.  But 
ho  will  go,  unless  I'm  immensely  mistaken,  to 
Moscow." 

"Put  his  head  into  the  lion's  mouth?"  the 
chief  clerk  murmured,   incredulously, 

"And  get  it  bitten  off — yes!"  General  Selistoff 
answered,  with  warmth.  "See  here,  Nikita!  you 
don't  know  that  man  as  well  as  I  do.  He  was 
eighteen  mouths  in  my  own  regiment  in  the 
Caucasus.  He'd  do  or  dare  anything.  If  Ruric 
Brassoff  wants  to  come  to  Russia,  to  Russia  Ruric 
Brassoff  will  certainly  come.  And  he'd  walk  " 
down  tho  Neuski  Prospect  at  three  in  the  ftiter- 
noon,  with  a  flower  in  his  buttonhole,  if  every 
policeman  in  Petersburg  was  sharp  on  tho  look- 
out for  him  at  all  the  street  corners." 

"But  your  excellency's  pt^n  is—?"  Milri*a 
asked,  in  suspense,  .  _..     . . ,:..  - 

"This.  You  shall  carry  it  out  yourself. 
Why,  nothing  could  be  easier.  You  take  tho 
first  train  across  the  Gei'man  frontier.  If  we 
telegraph  from  Petersburg  or  Moscow,  that 
would  excite    suspicion.     So    you    get   out    at 


;    i  J 


1     1 


t-^^^^i^^v^ 


i-: 


llf 


.j« 


408 


tTNDER   MEALED   ORDERS. 


Konigsberg,  or  Eydtkuhuen,  or  where  you  will, 
and  sond  h  message  in  cipher  to  Stefanovic  at 
Paris,  signinfj  it  Number  Three,  which  is  Os- 
sinHky's  right  signature.  Here's  yonr  telegram. 
I'll  write  it  out.  Strike,  while  the  iron'H  hot. 
Th(^  sooner  we  put  this  plan  into  exwution  the 
bettor." 

He  dip|)ed  a  pen  hastily  into  th(^  ink-bottle 
by  his  side  and  scribbled  down  a  few  lines. 


"Stefanovic,  'iH  Rue  des  Saints  Pt^res,  Paris, 
Just  across  the  frontier.  Letter,  inftti  uctioas 
to  hand.  Rumored  arrest  entirely  unfoundetl. 
Police  on  our  track.  Telegraph  in  saniH  cipher 
at  once  to  Number  Four,  at  Moscow.  His  let- 
ters have  gone  wrong.  Send  openly  to  him  by 
name.  No  dantjor  at  all.  Del aj' may  l>e  fatal. 
"NuMBKR  Thrke.     Eydtkuhnen." 


Alexis  SelistoflF  sur^reyed  his  handicraft  with 
a  quiet  smile  of  cruel  satisfaction. 

"That'll  do,  I  flatter  myself,"  he  said,  hand- 
ing it  across  to  Nikita.  "When  it's  put  into 
cipher." 

The  chief  clerk  ran  hia  eye  over  it,  enchanted. 
.  "Capital,  excellency,"  he  answered,  rubbing 
his  hands  softly  together  at  the  well-planned 
ruse.  "He'll  telegraph  back,  of  course,  to 
Number  Four,  by  his  real  name  a?id  addreas, 
and  you'll  instruct  the  telegraph  administration 
to  intercept  the  message." 

"Quite  so,"  the  general  answered,  still  grimly 
triumphant.     "I  fancy  it's  a  good  c«rd.     And 


"  vjryv^tF*' 


BRfl. 

where  yoii  will, 
bo  Stefanovic  at 
0,  which  is  On- 
i  yoiir  telegram, 
the  iron's  hot. 
to  ex«}ciition  tho 

)  the  ink-bottle 
few  linPB. 

in  P{>re8,  Paris, 
or.  inRti  uction.s 
rely  unfoundetl. 
in  aanif  cipher 
>soow.  Tfis  let- 
•enly  to  him  hy 
y  may  be  fatal. 
5y«ltkuhnen. " 

handicraft  with 


he  said,  hand- 

i.4(>r'"\.:i-   ■ 

'n  it's  put  into 

s ; '  ■, ;  .;, 

r  it,  enchanted. 

,■  ^'    ,'■    .*■  "    - 

reered,   rubbing 

--^r'  •;;•  ■  J 

e   well-planned 

Hi       ■:,}'      \' 

of    course,    to 

',"•'>'•,■• 

e  and  addreas, 

.  -  - , ,   ■   *  i 

administration 

ed,  still  grimly 

od  ('«rd.     And 

UNDER  BEALED  ORDERS 


if  it  turnH  up  trumps  we  ought  to  be  able  to 
catch  nut  only  this  insignifioHnt  Nuniber  Four, 
whoever  ho  may  l)e,  but,  what's  mu(!h  more  im- 
portant, Ituric  Brassoff  himi^olf  in  jMjrsou  also." 

"You  think  soi'"  Nikitii  mused,  interroga- 
tively. 

"Think y  I'm  almost  sure  of  it.  Look  your 
facts  in  ilie  face.  Kuric  Brassoff's  well  on  his 
way  to  Moscow  before  now,  and  we'll  watdi  for 
him  carefully,  at  Nuniber  Four's  address,  whoro- 
ever  wo  find  it.  .  .  .  Mind,  no  precipitancy, 
Nikita;  caution,  caution,  caution!  Don't  try 
to  arrest  Number  Four,  however  sure  you  may 
be  of  him,  without  my  leave.  What  I  want  is 
not  80  much  him  as  Ruric  BrassoflF.  It's  clear 
Ruric  Brawjotf  is  at  present  going  tho  rounds  of 
his  fellow-conspirators  for  some  very  serious  and 
important  purpose.  Sooner  or  later,  ho'll  get  on 
to  Moscow.  -  We  must  watch  and  wait.  Better 
bide  our  own  time.  ,  .  .  Now,  go,  and  work 
that  telegram  out  into  the  cipher." 


•  1^ 


-.,„ j-A  ■>;?:;, A-:?- ■•'•: 


^ 


nm.'    I 


410 


UNDER  8RALKD   ORDRIW. 


CHAPTKP  XLV. 


\    I.A   RUHHE. 


t*^-- 


It  isn't  ho  easy  for  a  "dontnibautl  |)erson,"  hh 
they  nay  in  RuHsia,  to  get  acroHw  tho  frontier  to 
Moscow  unobserved.  Even  the  faniilinr  tweed 
Huit  of  tlio  British  tourist,  liowever  large  itn 
checks,  doesn't  suffice  to  protect  one.  .  Hay- 

ward  was  sf)  conscious,  indeed,  of  tl  Tiber- 

loss  difficulties  which  lay  in  his  way,  that  on 
second  thought  he  didn't  attempt  to  go  by  the 
direct  route  via  "Wilna  and  Minsk,  but  tjok  the 
orosa-coutitry  train  instead  by  Diinaburg  and 
Smolensk.  At  the  last  little  town,  he  descended 
for  the  night  at  the  second-ralo  hotel — accommo- 
dation is  bad  off  tlje  main  lines,  of  course — mean- 
ing to  continue  his  journey  next  day  to  Moscow. 

But  Russia  is  Russia.  Along  certain  familiar 
tourist  tracks,  it  is  true,  the  police-  and  the  inib- 
lic  are  fairly  accustomed  by  this  time  to  the  in- 
o.\plicable  vagaries  of  the  western  traveler;  and 
tliough  all  foreign  visitors  are  duly  noted  and 
numbei'ed  and  kept  in  view  by  the  authorities, 
from  the  moment  thoy  arrive  till  they  leave  the 
country,  they  are  not  opouly  molested  by  miinite 
or  obtrusive  police  supervision.     Off  the  beaten 


nw. 


nil  jwrson,"  hh 
th«  frontier  to 
fiimilinr  tweed 
'over   'urge   itw 
>ue.  .  Hay- 

>f  tl  tiber- 

i  way,  that  ou 
>t  to  go  by  tho 
k,  but  t  jok  tho 
Diiiiaburg  and 
I,  he  de8cende<l 
>tel — Hocommo- 
coiirse — mean- 
'ay  to  Moscow. 
:jrtnin  familiar 
3-  and  the  jnib- 
ime  to  the  in- 
traveler;  and 
Illy  noted  and 
le  authorities, 
bhey  leave  the 
ted  by  minute 
ys  the  beaten 


*■ 


UNDER   SEAI.KD   OKDRRfl. 


411 


track,  linwovor,  n  Htratigcr  is  a  rarity,  and  be 
ban  to  iKH-oimt  for  biH  pri'Honce  and  iiin  btminoHH 
in  the  pbico  to  the  IjchI  nirignateH  by  a  nioHt 
Htringoiit  iiKiuisition.  Mr.  ilayward  Hi)on  found 
he  had  committed  a  griovouH  error  iii  miiking 
tluit  ill-advirt(Ml  dt^tuur  Ity  Diiiiaburg.  Tho  uu- 
thoritioM  wore  most  curious  as  to  bis  rnasims  fof 
adopting  HO  unusual  a  routo.  Why  bad  bo  turned 
80  far"* out  of  bis  way  if  ho  was  going  at  last  to 
Moscow?  Why  bad  ho  stopped  tho  night  at 
Hucli  a  place  tin  Smolensk?  Why  did  bo  want 
to  seo  anything  of  rural  Kussia?  Why  had  he 
tried  at  all  to  break  bis  journey  anywhere? 

Mr.  Ilayward  answered,  as  imconcernodly  as  ho 
could,  with  a  very  innocent  air,  that  b  »va8  an 
English  tourist  who  wanted  to  form  an  opinion 
for  liimself  of  tbo  agricultural  provincos.  But 
that  answer  only  provoked  the  ispravnik's  sus- 
picions still  more.  "To  write  about  it  in  the 
papers,  I  suppose,"  he  said,  with  a  slight  sneer, 
in  his  very  bad  French;  for  Mr.  Hay  ward  of 
course  affected  complete  ignorance  of  bis  native 
Russia.  "Yes,  that's  tho  way  with  j'ou  En- 
glish. You  spy  out  everything.  But  we  Rus- 
sians don't  want  you  to  come  peering  about  our 
country  without  good  reason  given.  You  must 
justify  your  presence  bj'  business  or  affairs.  Let 
me  see  your  passport  again,  if  you  please.  Mon- 
sieur Mortimer," 

Mr,  Hayward  banded  it  back  to  him.  "From 
Paris,"  the  ispravnik  said  slowly,  conning  it 
over  to  himself,  with  the  true  Jack-in-office  air 
of  great  wisdom  and  cuuciiDg.    '  *  And  you  stopped 


! 


1    ' 


iJ 


^^'^^mmmmsi 


r^mi-mif'-' 


4t3 


UXDKlt  SEAI.ED   OKD^RS. 


at  Berlin  on  the  way,  "Well,  chat's  odd  now, 
certainly.  Why  should  an  Englishman  come 
from  London  to  Moscow  via  Paris  and  Diiua- 
biirg?  This  thing  must  be  looked  into,  sir. 
You  are  detained  for  the  present,  while  I  coro- 
,  municate  with  Petersburg." 

It  was  with  profound  misgivings  that  Mr, 
Hay  ward  retired  that  evening  into  his  narrow 
bodroom  at  the  Smolensk  inn.  He  slept  very 
badly.  The  room  was  confined,  stuffy,  ill-ven- 
tilated. Ho  felt  a  choking  in  his  throat.  To- 
ward morning,  he  began  to  get  distinctly  ill. 
He  tried  to  rise,  but  found  ho  wasn't  strong 
enough.  Hastily,  he  sent  round  for  a  local 
doctor.  The  doctor  came,  and  examined  him 
with  some  care.  Very  little  doubt  what  was 
t'le  matter,  ho  said.    It  was  a  case  of  diphtheria. 

Diphtheria  I  Mr,  Hay  ward's  heart  sank  within 
him  at  the  sound.  He  must  get  up  at  all  risks, 
doctor  or  inspector  to  the  cimtrary  notwithstand- 
ing, and  pursue  his  journey  straight  ahead  to 
Moscow.  If  he  died  here  at  Smolensk — why, 
Owen's  life  wouldn't  bo  worth  six  n^onths'  pur- 
chase. That  vindictive  StefanovicI  Those  in- 
criminating papers!  He  was  a  British  subject 
— he  brandished  his  passport  ostentatiously  in 
the  doctor's  face;  he  mtifsf  go  on  at  once;  it 
was  important  business. 

But  tbf3  doc^tor  shook  his  head.     At  St.  Peters- 
burg or  Moscow,  perhaps,  where  people  are  more  . 
accustomed  to  tJie  ways  of  those  mad  English, 
his   protest    might   have  been  successful.      At 
Smolensk,  a  mere  straggling  country  town  with 


:^W«?a^^s:*ii^'---tl;'^■;fc; 


that's  odd  now, 

Inglishman   come 

Paris  and  Diiua- 

looked    into,   sir. 

sent,  while  I  com- 

givings   that   Mr. 
into  his  £arroAv 
He   slept  very 
3(1,  stuflFy,  ill-ven- 
1  his  throat.     To- 
get  distinctly  ill. 
he  wasn't  strong 
)und   for  a    local 
d  examined   him 
doubt  what  was 
•ase  of  diphtheria. 
1  heart  sank  within 
fet  up  at  all  risks, 
ary  notwithstand- 
itraight  ahead  to 
Smolensk — why, 
six  Kionths'  pur- 
lovicl     Those  in- 
a  British  subject 
ostentatiously  in 
)  on  at  once;  it 

.  At  St.  Peters- 
)  people  are  more 
se  mad  English, 
successful.  At 
untry  town  with 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS, 


413 


fi  big  military  garrison,  it  was  worse  than  use- 
less. The  doctor  gave  orders  to  the  host  as  he 
wont  down  the  stairs,  "See  at  your  peril  you 
don't  let  that  lunatic  in  number  1-^  escape.  His 
disease  is  contagious,  it  might  become  epidemic." 
And  the  isprav-nik  had  warned  hin  the  night  be- 
fore, "If  you  allow  the  suspected  person  in  this 
room  to  leave  the  hotel  without  a  written  order 
from  the  superintendent  of  police,  you  shall  an  • 
sw-er  for  it  with  your  own  back."  And  the  host 
nodded  wisely. 

For  three  days,  accordingly,  Mr.  Hay  ward  lay 
there,  between  life  and  death,  in  an  agony  of  sus- 
pence,  remorse  and  LGii.>r.  If  he  died,  all  was 
up ;  if  he  lived,  he  might  arrive  too  late  at  Mos- 
03 w  to  avert  the  catastrophe.  And  when  the 
diphtheria  itself  began  to  get  better,  the  doctor 
reported  he  wtts  suffering  as  well  from  low  ma- 
larial fever.  It  was  that  hateful  inn.  Mr.  Hay- 
ward  fumed  and  fretted.  Germs  tlew  about 
visibly.  Week  passed  after  week,  and  still  he  lay 
there  like  a  log.  What  might  be  happening  mean- 
while at  Moscow,  he  hadn't  the  slightest  idea. 
He  daren't  telegraph  to  London;  he  daren't 
write  to  Olga  Mireff  at  Berlin  for  news.  He 
lay  there  all  alone  and  untended,  in  that  dirty 
littlo  room,  eating  his  heart  out  with  delay,  and 
retarding  his  own.  recovery  meanwhile  by  his 
profound  anxiety.  ;?    '    -  *- 

One  thing,  however,  he  had  happily  been  able 
to  do.  The  very  first  evening,  after  the  ispravnik 
had  gone,  and  while  he  feared  detection,  he  had 
written  a  hasty  line  to  Fomenko  at  Moscow,  and 


t  ■ 


<' 


-' 


I! 


■1 


'tm 


m 


414 


UNDER   SEALED   OBnEBS. 


posted  it  openly,  though  unobserved,  in  the  letter- 
box of  the  hotel.  It  was  in  cipher,  of  course,  but 
otherwise  plain  enough.  •  It  said  these  few  words 
only:  -  ,^u. ._ 

"I  am  on  my  way  to  Moscow.  Do  uothin;. 
raph  till  I  come.  Believe  no  foolish  ravings. 
I  may  be  delayed,  but  wait  for  my  arrival.  Re- 
member, I  am  your  chief.  Implicit  obedience  is 
more  necessary  than  ever.     Yours,  for  Russia, 

■     . ,       ..  "RuRic  Brassoff." 

And  at  St.  Petersburg,  meanwhile,  General 
Alexis  Selistoff  had  received  news  with  great 
delight  of  a  suspicious  person  who  had  de- 
scended unexpectedly  at  the  hotel  at  Smolensk. 
Brisk  telegrams  passed  quickly  to  and  fro  be- 
tween the  Bureau  of  the  Third  Section  and  the 
little  provincial  office.  The  stranger  had  come 
from  England,  it  seemed,  and  had  an  English 
passport;  but  he  was  last  from  Paris  direct,  as 
shown  by  the  recent  insa  of  the  Russian  em- 
bassy. Moreover,  he  had  stopped  on  his  way 
at  Berlin,  no  doubt  for  communication  with  the 
refugees  at  Charlottenburg.  Alexis  Selistoff 
twisted  his  grizzled  gray  mustache  still  moio 
nervously  than  usual  in  his  intense  excitement 
Could  this  be  the  man  they  were  so  eagerly  in 
search  of — the  475  who  was  to  proceed  on  tho 
quest  cf  Number  Four  to  Moscow?  What  more 
likely?  "What  more  natural?  He  would  have 
gone  in  that  case  from  England  to  Paria — to  see 
Valerian  Stefanovic,  as  they  knew  475  had  done. 


W. 


tnisBs, 


JTved,  in  tlio  letter- 
)her,  of  course,  but 
id  these  few  words 


pow.     Do  nothing 

foolish   ravings. 

mj^  arrival.     Re- 

{)licit  obedience  is 

•urs,  for  Russia, 

Jic  Brassofp." 

iin  while,   General 

uews  with  great 
m  who  had  de- 
lotel  at  Smolensk. 
Sy  to  and  fro  he- 
'd Section  and  th« 
kranger  had  come 
'■  had  an  English 
1  Paris  direct,  as 

the  Russian  em- 
ipped  on  his  way 
inication  with  the 

Alexis  Selisloff 
stache  still  moio 
tense  excitement 
ere  so  eagerly  in 
0  proceed  on  the 
3W?     What  more 

He  would  have 
i  to  Parifi — to  see 
3W  475  had  done. 


trNi>sm  ssALvm  i^mi^sitB. 


415 


Then  on  to  Berlin  to  visit  that  mysterious  wo- 
man whom  Olga  Mireflf  was  always  dc^ging, 
and  who  no  doubt  had  forwarded  the  letters  to 
Osshji^cy  at  KieflF.  Thenoe  tD  Moscow  by  devious 
ways — such  as  Smolensk  via  Diinaburg.  Alexis 
Selistoff  stroked  his  chin  with  unconcealed  de- 
light. They  were  running  the  fox  to  earth  at 
last,  it  was  clear.  He  believed  he  had  his  hand 
on  Ruric  Brassoff.  * 

But  he  WHS  in  no  hurry  to  take  him  till  he 
knew  all  was  safe.  He  must  prove  it  up  to  the 
hilt.  He  must  be  sure  of  his  prisoner.  And 
meanwhile,  good  Mr.  ispravnik  at  Smolensk, 
I  beg  of  you,  keep  a  sharp  eye  -on  this  man. 
Don't  let  him  e8cai>e,  but  above  all  don't  Jet 
him  guesB  for  a  moment  you're  watohing  him. 

And  then,  one  day  later,  good  news  from  Mos- 
cow! Ha,  hal  a  great  victory !  "The  telegram 
in  cipher  which  your  excellency  desired  should 
be  interrupted  en  route  has  come  to  band  to  lay. 
It  is  directed" — Alexis  Selistoff 's  eyes  gleamed 
bright  at  the  sight — ^^"to  Michael  Fomenko,  x*4 
Slav  Bazar  Street." 

The  Chief  of  the  Third  Section  held  it  up  for 
some  minutes  in  triumph  and  gazed  at  it,  ^efo^e 
he  proceeded  to  decipher  it.  This,  then,  was 
Number  Four's  address !  24  Slav  Bazar  Street! 
His  ruse  had  succeeded.  He  had  found  out  the 
house  where  475,  be  he  Ruric  Brassoff  or  not, 
was  80  soon  to  present  himself. 

After  a  minute  or  two,  he  began  painfully  to 
si^ell  oxit  the  words  and  sentenoes  of  the  ciphered 
measage.    They  didn't  tell  him  much,  to  be  sure; 


I      '. 


416 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


but  as  far  as  they  v/ent,  they  confimied  his  sus- 

piciOHS.  :;;'•;;    r^-rJ 

"Michael  Fomenko,  24  Slav  Bazar  Street- 
Number  Throe  telegraphs  to  mo  from  Eydt- 
kuhneu  that  he  is  safe  across  the  frontier,  and 
that  rumors  of  his  arrest  are  entirely  false.  Po- 
lice on  the  track.  Beware  of  475.  He  came  tt) 
me  here  and  tried  to  extort  from  mo  my  copy  of 
sealed  envelope.  I  believe  he  has  turned  traitor. 
Perhaps  4'}  has  turned  traitor  with  him. 

"Number  Two.     Paris." 


' .  i(t 


Alexis  Selistoff  pressed  his  bell.  The  chief 
clerk  entered. 

"Nikita,"  the  General  said,  holding  the  tele- 
gram in  one  hand,  "this  is  very  important.  Wire 
at  once  to  the  ispravnik  at  Smolensk  that  no  diffi- 
culties must  be  thrown  in  the  way  of  th^  English- 
man Mortimer.  As  soon  as  he's  well  enough,  he 
is  to  bo  permitted  to  go  where  he  will,  to  Moscow 
or  elsewhere.  But  on  no  account  must  he  be  lost 
sight  of  for  one  single  second,  or  allowed  to  get 
across  the  frontier  out  of  the  country." 

The  chief  clerk  bowed.  "It  shall  bo  attended 
to,  excellency,"  he  answered,  all  compliance. 

"And,  look  here,"  Alexis  Selistoff  went  on, 
thinking  it  out  as  he  spoke.  "I  shall  want  this 
fellow  watched — watched,  closely,  discreetly,  by 
a  competent  person,  I  can't  trust  that  meddling 
busybody  of  au  inspector  at  Smolensk.  He'll 
frighten  our  man,  and  give  him  warning  before- 
hand.   He's  got  no  gumption.    That's  not  what  I 


-■■iTi^.'iiS'trv.T-^'^ 


RI>BRS. 


confirmed  his  sub- 


lav  Bazar  Street- 
mo  from  Eydt- 
the  frontier,  and 
ntirely  false.  Po- 
475,  He  came  to 
om  mo  my  copy  of 
has  turned  traitor, 
ivith  him. 
Two.    Paris." 

bell.     The  chief 

,  holding  the  tele- 
"  important.  Wire 
•lecsk  that  no  diflSi- 
ay  of  th^  English- 
's well  enough,  he 
le  will,  to  Moscow 
nt  must  he  be  lost 

or  allowed  to  get 
untry."  v 

shall  bo  attended 
11  compliance, 
elistoff  went  on, 
'I  shall  want  this 
>ly,  discreetly,  by  < 
1st  that  meddling 
Smolensk.  He'll 
1  warning  before- 
rhat's  not  what  I 


M,* 


UKDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


417 


want.  We  must  give  him,  above  all  things,  rope 
enough  to  hang  himself  with.  .  .  .  Nikita,  you 
must  go  yourself.  You're  the  man  for  the  place. 
You'v^e  managed  the  business  at  Eydtkuhnen 
very  well.  You  must  manage  this  one  too.  .  .  . 
Run  down  to  Smoletisk  as  a  commercial  traveler. 
I'll  give  you  a  note  to  the  inspector  completely 
superseding  him.  Let  this  fellow  who  calls  him- 
self Mortimer  have  his  own  way  in  everything 
and  do  just  as  he  likes.  Throw  dust  in  his  eyes, 
and  no  obstacles  i  n  his  path.  Make  the  inspector 
apologize  to  him  for  needlessly  annoying  a  Brit- 
ish subject.  Wait  a  bit;  write  a  letter,  before 
you  go,  reprimanding  our  ispravnik;  and  make 
the  ispravnik  show  it  to  him.  Tot>  much  zeal — 
you  know  the  kind  of  thing — diplomatic,  cautions 
— too  much  misplaced  zeal  in  interfering  with 
subjects  of  friendly  power.  But  don't  overdo  it. 
Remember,  if  it's  Ruric  Brassoflf,  Ruric  Brass- 
off 's  a  Ru8sian,^-and  he  knows  our  ways;  to  put 
things  toe  strong  would  only  open  his  eyes  and 
excite  his  sirspioion.  Let  him  go  where  he  likes, 
but  keep  a  close  watch  on  him.  Not  obtrusive, 
don't  you  know.  No  soldiers  dressed  up  in  plain 
clothes  and  walking  in  pairs,  one,  two;  one, 
two;  onf^,  two;  like  a  regiment,  A  few  picked  ' 
men,  all  unlike,  all  natural.  Don't  rouse  his 
attentifJn.  But,  one  or  othei  of  you,  keep  firm 
watch  on  him  till  he  gets  to  Moscow.  I'll  mar^; 
ago  about  Mr.  Michael  Fomenko  myself.  His 
liouse  shall  be  watched  too.  We're  on  the  point 
of  surprising  them. " 


tft 


!  i 


1^ 


418 


UNDEB  SEALED  OBDRItB. 


\ 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 


,  ,  ,^vir   (      OPOSSIXa   THE  RUBICON. 

Weeks  pu.  jed  before  Mr.  Hay  ward  was  well 
enough  to  lea^'^  Smolensk.  But  before  he  left, 
it  was  some  comfort  to  him  to  see  that  all  suspi- 
ciou  as  to  'ais  nationality  had  entirely  disap- 
peared, and  that  the  police  had  ceased  to  trouble 
themselves  about  his  movements  in  any  way. 
Indeed,  he  had  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that 
the  blustering  inspector  had  to  eat  humble  pie; 
for  the  fellow  cfime  to  the  hotel,  while  Mr.  Hay- 
ward  Wfis  still  very  ill,  and  made  most  profuse 
apologies  for  his  unintentional  rudeness  to  a 
British  subject,  Nay,  he  even  showed,  at  the 
same  time,  by  oflficial  command,  a  departmental 
letter  he  had  received  that  day  from  his  chief  at 
St.  Petersburg.  Mr.  Hay  ward  smiled  to  read  it 
— 'twas  so  intensely  Russian.  He  saw  in  a  mo- 
ment it  was  meant  to  be  taken  two  ways.  The 
supposed  angr}'  Englishman  was  expected  to  ac- 
cept It  as  a  complete  snub  for  the  inspector  and  a 
victory  for  himself,  while  the  inspector's  pride 
was  gracefully  salved  at  the  same  time  by  a 
careful  reservation  or  two  as  to  the  abstract  right 


iRBB, 


ri. 


CON. 


*^:^.  r^.iki^ 


-■iii^?. 


lywnrd  was  well 
it  before  he  left, 
ee  that  all  suspi- 

entirely  disap- 
ceased  to  trouble 
its  in  any  way. 
of  knowing  that 
eat  humble  pie; 

while  Mr,  Ilay- 
le  most  profuse 
I   rudeness  to  a 

showed,  at  the 

a  departmental 
rom  his  chief  at 
smiled  to  read  it 
le  saw  in  a  mo- 
iwo  ways.     The 

expected  to  ac- 

inspector  and  a 

Qspector's  pride 

ime  time  by  a 

le  abstract  right 


UNDEU   SEALED   ORDBRS. 


419 


of  the  police  to  interrogate  foreigners  whenever 
they  thought  it  necessary.  Nikita,  indeed,  had 
done  hi-?  work  well.  Ho  had  succeeded  in 
blinding  even   Ruri(;   Rrassoff. 

From  that  day  forth,  accordingly,  the  police 
gave  him  no  more  trouble.  He  wa.s  allowed  to 
do  as  he  liked;  and  what  he  specially  noted  was 
the  gratifying  fact  that  no  spy  or  detective  was 
sot  to  watch  him.  Mr.  Hay  ward  knew  well  the 
Russian  spy,  his  clumsiness  and  his  awkward- 
ness. He  remembered  him  in  the  great  up- 
heaval of  1871  as  though  it  had  been  but  yester- 
day. It  was  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world, 
indeed,  to  recognize  the  mouchard.  That  em- 
barrassed air,  that  ostentatious  carelessness,  that 
glance  full  of  suspicion  and  fear  which  he  fixes 
upon  the  countenance  of  every  passer-by,  those 
are  signs  which  can  never  deceive  an  experi- 
enced eye  like  Ruric  Brassofif's.  And  yet,  those 
men  shrink  from  looking  you  full  in  the  face, 
for  all  that.  They  skulk  and  glance  sidewisp. 
They  slink  by  and  look  askance  to  see  if  yoi 
notice  them.  So  different  from  the  frank  gft  :e 
of  the  honest  commercial  traveler,  for  3xampitj, 
who  came  from  Petersburg  to  Smolen^ik  during 
Mr.  Hay  ward's  illness,  and  who  talked  bad 
French  to  him  now  an(  again,  when  he  was  be- 
ginning to  be  convalescent,  in  the  poky  little 
billiard-room.  A  good-humored,  light-hoarted 
fellow,  that  blunt  commercial  gentleman — be 
traveled  in  tea — but  provincial,  verj'.  It  was 
amusing  to  heur  him  discuss  Mr.  Hayward's 
dress  and  Mr.  Hayward's  English  manners,  be- 


I  I 


<■ 


HI 


420 


UNDER   8RALE1)   ORDERS. 


fore  his  very  face,  to  the  smiling  and  nodding 
hotdl  keeper.  Of  course,  lie  had  no  idea  tho 
man  in  the  tvvoed  suit  understood  Russian,  so  ho 
was  frankness  itself  in  Lis  brusciue  comments  ou 
the  strnnger. 

"That's  the  way  with  these  English,  you 
know,"  ho  remarked  to  the  landlord  one  even- 
ing, taking  his  cigarette  from  his  mouth,  and 
laughing  unob^^'usively.  "Tliey're  tho  most 
conceited  nation  in  Europe,  tj  my  mind — tlie 
most  Holf-confident,  the  most  pigheaded.  At 
Orel,  whore  I  come  from,  we  always  caH  them 
pigs  of  English.  This  fellow,  for  instance,  talks 
about  Russia  already,  after  six  weeks  in  the 
country,  spent  mostly  in  bed,  as  if  he  knew  all 
about  it,  by  a  sort  of  intuition.  He'll  go  homo 
and  write  a  book  on  us,  I  expect,  before  he's 
done.  'Six  Weeks  in  Russia,  With  a  Peean  for  a 
Constitution' — that's  tho  English  way.  Ah,  we 
know  a  thing  or  two,  I  can  tell  you,  down  yon- 
der at  Orel ! — I  beg  your  pardon,  monsieur,  for 
addressing  my  compatriot  for  a  moment  in  his 
own  tongue;  he  understands  but  little  French, 
as  you  are  aware.  We  Easterns  are  still  barba- 
rians. I  was  remarking  to  him  upon  tho  singu- 
lar insight  you  English  passess  in  dealing  with 
the  affairs  of  foreign  countries.  Your  knowl- 
edge of  our  character,  for  example,  after  so  brief 
an  acquaintance  with  our  people,  seems  to  me 
nothing  short  of  marvelous.  But  there !  you  En- 
glish lead  civilization,  of  course.  The  French 
and  Germans  don't  understand  that.  We  Rus- 
sians, who  watch  the  game  from  afar,  we  know 


DiCRg. 

ing  and  nodding 

liid  no  idea  tho 

od  Russian,  so  ho 

quo  comments  ou 

so    Euffljsh,   you 
ludlord  one  oven- 

liis  mouth,  and 
ley're  tho  most 
■i  my  mind— tlio 

pigheaded.     At 
id  ways  caH  them 
"or  instance,  talks 
lix  weeks  in  tho 
Its  if  he  knew  all 
He'll  go  home 
:poct,  before  he's 
i^ith  a  Paean  for  a 
ih  way.     Ah,  wo 
.  you,  down  yon- 
5n,  monsieur,  for 
a  moment  in  his 
ut  little  French, 
3  are  still  barba- 
L  upon  tho  singu- 
I  in  dealing  with 
I.     Your  knowl- 
)le,  after  so  brief 
)le,  seems  to  me 
t  there  I  youEn- 
».     The  French 
that.     We  Rus- 
a  afar,  wo  know 


UNDRR   BKAT.BD   ORDERS. 


4fl 


it."      And  he  winked  at  tho    landlord,  obtru- 
HJvely. 

Mr.  Hayward  smiled  a  grim  smile.  An  hon- 
est fellow  this  traveler,  though  i:e  thought  him- 
Holf  so  clever.  But  if  Alexis  Selistoff  could  have 
st'en  his  chief  clerk  Nikita,  as  he  uttered  those 
words,  both  in  Russian  and  in  French,  with  per- 
foot  Bolomnity,  ho  would  have  clapped  the  man 
on  the  back  with  effusive  delight,  and  have  rec- 
ommended him  to  the  Czar  forthwith  for  imme- 
diate promotion. 

At  last  the  time  came  when  Mr.  Hayward 
might  move.  He  was  still  weak  and  ill,  but 
the  good-hunaored  commercial  gentleman  from 
(^rel,  wlio  traveled  in  tOa  for  a  fimi  in  Peters- 
burg, kindly  volunteered  to  see  him  off  at  tho 
station.  That  was  really  very  nice  of  him. 
Mr.  Hayward  didn't  notice,  however,  that  aftor 
seeing  him  off,  the  good  humored  commercial 
gentleman,  unencumbered  by  sample  boxes, 
went  round  to  the  other  platform,  and  entered 
a  special  carriage  on  the  selfsame  train,  by  tho 
opposite  platform — a  carriage  already  occupied 
by  two  distiuguished  gentlemen  of  military  ap- 
pearance. Nor  did  he  observe,  either,  when 
they  reached  Moscow,  that  one  of  these  gentle- 
men followed  him  close  in  a  sleigh  to  the  Hotel 
du  Bazar  Slav,  where  he  meant  to  pui  up,  so 
as  to  be  near  Fomeuko. 

That  night,  Ruric  Brassoff  slept  sound!  -  ^n  a 
bed  in  the  town  he  knew  so  well.  It  was  straugo 
to  be  there  again.  It  made  the  Russian  heart 
throb  hard  within  his  weather-beaten  breast  to 


.  *1  !  ';! 


423 


sa^r 


VNDBR   SRALRD   ORDERS. 


feol  himsolf  oiico  more  in  the  great  heart  of 
KusHia.  J    •  ^^ 

N«»xt  morninpf  early,  he  rose,  and  after  Iiin 
euffee  aud  roll— how  good  thoy  tasted ! — Hauntend 
out  into  the  Htroots,  vvitli  a  Hvvinging  gait,  look- 
ing about  him  right  and  loft,  like  the  Euglisli 
touriat  ho  iMirHonatod.  Yos,  it  was  Moscow  still, 
that  old  familiar  Moscow^.  The  time  was  win- 
ter. The  same  nipping  dry  air,  the  sam  3  slusli 
in  the  streets,  the  same  dirty  brown  bucw,  tlu^ 
same  fur-covered  mob  of  passors-by  as  ever.  In 
tlio  bright  eastern  suulight,  the  gaudy  Oriental 
decorations  of  the  Kromliu  glittered  and  shim- 
mered as  of  old  in  barbaric;  splendor;  tbt» 
churches  stared  dowa  upon  him  with  myriad 
hues  of  green  and  gold  aa  in  liis  nbadowy  child- 
hood.  The  icicles  shone  on  the  eaves  as  ever. 
Only  he  himself  was  changed.  He  saw  it  all 
now  with  western  not  with  Russian  eyes.  It 
was  a  measure  to  him  of  tho  distance  he  had 
traversed  moau^vhilo.  He  used  once  to  think 
Moscow  so  grand  a  city. 

The  streets,  he  soon  noticed,  as  he  strolled  on 
his  way,  were  chock  full  of  spies.  In  point  of 
fact,  Moscow  was  just  then  passing  through  oue 
of  her  periodical  nihilistic  scares.  The  Czar 
was  expected  before  long,  peo'ple  said,  aud  po- 
lice activity  was  everywhere  at  its  amplest. 
Mr.  Hayward's  heart  beat  high  with  long  uii 
wonted  excitement.  This  was  just  like  old 
times!  Spies!  spies!  how  familiar!  And  how 
comic  they  were,  too,  these  temporary  detec- 
tives; private  soldiers  dressed  up  as  civilians  by 


>RDKB8. 

tho   great  heart  of 

'oso,    finil  after  liis 
tiistod! — Huuiitercd 
nngiiiK  grtit,  look- 
ft,  like  the  English 
t  wan  Moscow  still, 
Die  time  wan  win- 
air,  tho  wimj  sluhli 
'  brown  Hiiow,  till! 
ors-hy  Jis  evfir.     In 
ho  gaudy  ( >rieutHl 
:littored  and  shiui- 
rii!    Hplendor;     thi» 
him  with  myriad 
JiiH  shadowy  child- 
the  eaves  as  ever. 
3d.     lie  saw  it  all 
Russian  eyes.     It 
10  distance  he  had 
ied  once  to  thiuii 


I,  as  he  strolled  on 
spies.  In  point  of 
issing  through  oik; 
cares.  The  Czar 
3ple  said,  and  po- 
9  at  its  amplest, 
gh  with  long  un 
IS  just  like  ol( 
miliar!  And  how 
temporary  detec- 
up  as  civilians  by 


rWDRR  HBAI.RD  ORnHUS. 


4t8 


thn  bittch,  .'iiul  |)Htroling  the  ntreetH  here  and 
then'  in  seanh  of  tho  contraband.  But  they  t<x>k 
iH/  notice  of  him.  Thej-  moonwl  alKjut  in  little 
[cirfcieH,  like  men  ju'cnstimnxl  for  many  years  to 
roiicertod  movempiit,  and  intraptihle  of  forgetting 
the  ingrained  Irshohh  of  the  drill-sergeant.  Then 
tln>ir  dr»!8H,  too,  how  grotosqne!  In  tho  hurry  of 
the  moment,  it  was  impussil)lc  ^o  obtain  different 
clothes  for  each;  so  whole  sc^uuds  had  the  same 
liiits,  tho  snm^  coats,  the  same  trouners.  Tho 
v"Ty  variations  only  heightened  the  absurdity. 
Si.iijo  carried  light  nticks,  to  give  them  ease  and 
>\v'aggor;  while  others  wore  j^'reat  blue  specta- 
cles poised  awkwardly  on  their  noses  to  make 
them  look  as  much  as  j).»8aibl(3  like  imivorsity 
-indents.  But  it  wa.s  all  in  vain;  soldier  mid 
spy,  soldier  and  spy,  soldier  and  spy,  was  writ 
ton  in  plain  /ords  across  tho  face  of  every  one  of 
thorn. 

However,  they  nf>vor  glanced  at  Mr.  Hay  ward 
at  all.  A  mere  EnfijHsh  tonrist!  He  observed 
that  with  pleasure.  Xot  a  soul  turned  to  look  at 
him.  Only  a  long  way  off,  at  the  opposite  sido 
of  the  street,  a  very  different  person  lounged 
slowly  and  unobtrusively  along  tho  pathway 
after  him  This  {Mirson  didn't  in  the  1  oast  re- 
semble a  spy,  or  a  common  soldier  either.  Ho 
•vas  a  gontlem.in  in  appearanco,  and  might  have 
!n>en  taken  for  a  doctor  or  a  lawv«r  or  a  govern- 
ment official.  Ho  never  came  unpleasantly  near 
^Ir.  Hayward,  or  excited  attention  iii  any  way. 
He  merely  lounijetl  on,  keeping  his  man  always 
in  sight,  and  occasionally  lookirfg  in  a  noncha 


■  ■Mr' 


434 


UNDER  HRALP.n   OKDKKrt. 


lant  way  into  shopn  at  tiw  c;)in«i'.     Hu  nhadowcd 
him  iinporcoptibly. 

At  last  Mr.  Hay  ward  returned,  and  iu  llm 
moHt  casual  faahiou  iiuule  his  way  onco  uif»re  to 
tho  Blttv  Bazar  Street .  At  No.  24  ho  stoppcil 
short  and  rang  tho  boll.  Tho  donrnilc  or  porter 
anwwored  tho  Hiimmnns  at  onco.  "Is  Michin! 
FoHJonki)  at  homo?"  Mr.  Hayward  asked  boUUy 
— for  tho  lirnt  time,  in  Riiiwian.  ,-/■  f,' 

And  tho  porter  made  aiirtwor,  "Ho  is  at  homo. 
Third  floor.  Letter  H  on  tho  corridor.  Go  oa 
\xi>  and  you'll  find  him."  ^ 

Mr.  Hayward  went  up,  and  knocked  at  tlii 
door  tho  man      id  indicated. 

"Who's  there?"  a  shrill  voii  i  awkod  fn-ni 
within. 

And  Mr.  Hayward  replied  in  a  v  ery  low  ton< , 
almoHt whispering:  ,«  .n  .^  .;,i 

"175.     Open  to  him." 

There  was  a  second's  hesitation;  then,  a  man'.; 
face  peeped  half  uncertain  through  the  chink  of 
the  'loor.  It  was  a  timid  young  tace.  Mr.  Hii)  - 
wa  '  was  prepared  for  such  indecision.  Quid; 
as  lightning,  he  took  a  card  and  a  poncil  from 
his  pocket.  Before  the  man's  very  eyes,  h) 
wrote  down  in  a  well  known  hand  the  magi(5 
name,  ""Ruric  Brassoff."  Fomenko  stared  at  it 
for  a  second  in  blank  amazement  and  doubt. 
Then,  making  his  mind  up  suddenly,  he  opened 
the  door   wide. 

"Come  in,"  he  said,  with  a  tinge  of  some- 
thing like  awe  in  his  ringing  voice.  "475,  I 
welcome  vou.'' 


)RI>KRrt. 

nor.     HuHhudow'i'd 

:urno<l,  and  lu  llm 
H  wiiy  ouoo  uuiro  lo 
No.  'H  ho  Bti)p{)i'il 
i  doornik  or  porti  r 
mco.  "Is  Micharl 
jrwunl  iisketl  boKlly 
n. 

)r,  "He  i«  a,i  homo. 
,e  corridor.     (}o  oa 

id  knocked   ut  tlii 

voice  HHked   fn-m 

in  u  very  low  tpm  , 

kion;  then,  a  man's 
rough  the  chink  of 
)g  tace.  Mr.  Hay- 
indecision.  Quid; 
and  a  pencil  from 
I's  very  eyes,  Ij" 
n  hand  the  magii; 
)menko  stared  at  it 
iement  and  doubt, 
iddenly,  he  opened 

a  tinge  of  some- 
ig  voice.     "476,  I 


?f| 


UNDKR   HKAIiKI)   ORDEKS. 


435 


Mr.  Hnyward  ent<>red.  Tlio  door  shut  <iuick 
l)ehind  his  back.  Tlu>  fatal  Htop  was  taken. 
He  was  in  HiisHia  once  more,  talking  Kussian  as 
of  old,  and  closotod  cIdho  in  Moscow  with  a  siis- 
pectod  Nihilist. 

But  at  tho  very  samo  moment  that  ho  mounted 
the  stairs  of  nnmbor  :il,  tho  gentlemanly  person 
who  had  boon  following  him  down  tho  street 
passed  carelessly  under  tl»e  big  gateway  of  a 
house  just  (jppDsito.  As  ho  passed  it  his  man- 
ner altered;  ho  grew  grim  and  fornml.  On  tho 
first  floor,  ho  entered  a  room  on  tho  right  with- 
out knocking.  In  it  sat  tho  good-humorod  com- 
mercial person  from  Orel,  who  traveled  in  tea, 
and  who  had  come  on  from  Smolensk.  He  was 
seated  in  the  gloom,  a  little  way  back  from  tho 
window;  tho  blind  was  pulled  rather  more  than 
halfway  down;  and  in  his  hand  ho  helrl  an 
opera-glass.  He  was  looking  across  toward  the 
other  house  opposite. 

Tlie  gentlemanly  jjorsou  nodded.  "Well,  Ni- 
kita,"  he  said,  gayly,  in  a  triumphant  whisper, 
"J  think  we've  secured  him.  This  is  our  man, 
I  don't  doubt.  If  he  isn't  Ruric  Brassoff,  at  a'ly 
rate,  in  spite  of  his  English  tweed  suit,  he  talks 
Russian  fluently.  For  he  spoke  i)  ihe  porter  a 
long  sentence,  and  the  porter  answered  him  at 
once.  Now,  I  happen  to  know  onr  good  friend 
Borodin,  who's  been  doornik  over  there  by  my 
orders  for  a  fortnight,  doesn't  speak  a  single 
word  of  either  French  or  German." 

Nikita  smiled  aeciuioscence.  "Yes,  we've  got 
him!"  he  said.     "We've  got  him!" 


,■•!*. 


:»• 


.J 


*.'  ■  t. 


,i^^^  _-.;   ** 


426 


UNDER   SKAT-BD   ORDERS. 


m 


It'     .'■■ 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 

A     SINGULAR     INCIDENT. 

Michael  Fomenko's  room  was  a  bare  little 
salon  on  the  third  floor  of  an  overgrown  Moscow 
tenement- house,  let  out  in  flats  and  apartments 
after  the  Parisian  fashion.  The  furniture  was 
scanty  and  botirgeuis  in  character— a  round  table 
in  the  middle,  a  spare  sofa,  a  few  chairs  with 
the  inevitable  Samovur,  made  up  its  chief  con- 
tents. On  one  side  stood  a  desk  with  locked 
drawers  and  little  pigeon-holes.  On  the  other  a 
door  led  into  a  cupboard  in  the  wall,  or,  rather, 
in  the  partition  which  separated  the  room  from 
the  adjoining  salon. 

This  adjoining  salon,  as  it  happened,  had  been 
occupied  for  some  days  by  the  gentlemanly  per- 
son who  knew  Nikita. 

As  Mr.  Hayward  entered  and  cast  a  glance 
round  the  apartment,  he  saw  at -once  that  Fo- 
menko  was  greatly  perturbed  at  his  arrival.  His 
now  acquaintance— for  they  had  known  one  an- 
other hitherto  on  paper  only — was  an  earnest- 
looking  young  man  of  twenty-five  or  thereabouts, 
substituted  by  Mr.  Hayward  as  one  of  Owen's 
"trustees,"  after  the  death  of  Dimitri  Ogareff, 
in  1887.     Ho  was  tall  and  fair,  a  journalist  by 


>it.;r.>v 


X 


:->^*4'''i-"' 


RDERS. 


.VII. 

CI  D  ENT. 

(I  was  a  bare  little 
)vergrown  Mobcow 
its  and  apartments 
The  furniture  was 
cter — a  round  table 
a  few  chairs  with 
le  up  its  chief  con- 
desk  with  locked 
s.  On  the  other  a 
le  wall,  or,  rather, 
ted  the  room  from 

lappened,  had  been 
e  gentlemanly  per- 

and  cast  a  glance 
at -once  that  Fo- 
t  his  arrival.  His 
ad  known  one  an- 
— was  an  eamest- 
ive  or  thereabouts, 
as  one  of  Owen's 
Dimitri  Ogareff, 
lir,  a  journalist  by 


^■.'iS*fe=iW-s^:*l».'^'*g«^-' 


tTNDBR  SEALED  ORDERS. 


427 


trade,  but  a  poet  by  temperament,  very  hand- 
some and  ardent,  with  intense  blue  eyes  and  deli- 
cate quivering  nostrils,  like  a  wild  horse  of  the 
Ukraine.  There  was  a  look  of  eagerness  on  his 
face,  too,  a  divine  imrest,  which  no  terror  could 
eclipse,  no  pallor  blot  out  from  it.  But  he  was 
doubly  alarmed  just  then,  all  the  same,  at  Mr. 
Hayward's  presence.  In  the  first  place,  he  was 
afraid  lest  spies  should  discover  him  closeted 
with  Ruric  Brassoil.  In  the  second  place,  he 
wasn't  sure  whether  this  was  really  Ruric  Brass- 
otf  himself  at  all,  or  only  some  ingenious  police 
pretender.  Stefanovic's  letters  had  given  him 
grave  cause  to  doubt.  He  faltered  and  hesitated, 
unwilling,  on  the  one  hand,  to  criminate  himself 
to  a  })08sible  spy,  or,  on  the  other  hand,  to  be 
guilty  '(f  discourtesy  or  suspicion  toward  the  real 
Ruric  BrassoflE. 

The  Chief,  however,  well  experienced  in  read- 
ing every  sentiment  of  the  revolutionary  heart, 
divined  his  difficulty  at  once,  and  met  it  with 
perfect  candor. 

"You  are  afraid,  Fomenko,"  he  said,  kindly, 
taking  the  young  man's  arm  with  that  paternal 
air  that  seemed  so  natural  to  him  after  twenty 
years'  intercourse  vt'ith  Owen  '''azalet.  "You 
suspect  me  of  being  a  spy.  My  cl<  ar  friend,  I 
don't  wonder.  It's  not  surprising  y^jn  should 
think  me  so.  We  live  in  such  a  terror.  But 
I'm  Ruric  Brassoff,  all  the  same.  You  have 
seen  my  own  hand  for  it.  Ask  me  what  other 
proof  on  earth  you  will.  I  will  satiirf/  yout 
curiosity." 


.1 


.._Jt..        _5 


UNDER   SKALED    ORDERS. 

The  young  man,  taking  in  the  situation  slowly, 
hung  back  once  more,  and  rcjcarded  him  with 
anxiety.  What  was  this  he  had  done?  Already 
he  had  admitted  more  than  enough  to  hang  him- 
self. 475?  Ruric  Brassoff?  The  police  were 
so  ubiquitous !  He  had  let  the  man  in  on  the 
strength  of  such  assurances.  Suppose  he  were 
reaJly  a  spy?  He  gazed  at  Mr.  Hay  ward  with 
infinite  fear  and  distrust  hovering  in  those  ear- 
nest blue  eyes. 

,  "There  must  be  some  mistake  somewhere,"  he 
said,  faltering.  "I  know  nobody  of  the  name  of 
Ruric  BrassoflF.  And  475 — what  do  you  mean 
by  that?  This  is  No.  24 ;  you  must  have  mis- 
taken your  directions." 

A  soft  and  quiet  smile,  half  contempt,  lialf 
pity,  played  almost  unobserved  round  Mr.  Hay- 
ward's  aristocratic  lips.  This  young  man  was 
a  very  poor  couspiratcr,  indeed,  when  it  came  to 
dealing  with  spies — but  he  was  good  and  honest. 

"My  dear  fellow,"  the  Chief  said,  frankly, 
seating  himself  in  a  chair  and  drawing  it  up  to 
the  table,  "if  I  were  really  a  detective,  all  this 
beating  about  the  bush  would  avail  you  nothing. 
You're  shutting  the  stable  door,  as  the  English 
proverb  says,  after  the  steed  is  stolen.  You've 
said  and  done  quite  enough  to  condemn  j'ou  al- 
ready. No  man  who  wasn't  one  of  us  would  for 
a  moment  have  admitted  me  on  that  name  and 
number — above  all,  just  now,  in  the  present  state 
of  Moscow.  Don't  try  to  hedge  in  that  futile 
way.  If  I'm  a  spy,  and  I  want  to  catch  you, 
I've  evidence  enough  and  to  spare  already.     If 


'r 


ER8.       -    . 

ituation  slowly, 
irded  him  with 
lone?  Already 
;h  to  hang  him- 
'he  police  were 

man  in  on  the 
appose  he  were 

Hayward  with 
ng  in  those  ear- 

jomowhere,"  he 
'  of  tho  name  of 
t  do  you  mean 
nust  have  mis- 
contempt,  half 
ound  Mr.  Hay- 
oung  man  was 
vhen  it  came  to 
ood  and  honest, 
said,  frankly, 
rawing  it  up  to 
bectivo,  all  this 
dl  you  nothing, 
as  the  English 
itolen.  You've 
ondemn  you  al- 
of  ua  would  for 
that  name  and 
he  present  state 
}  iu  that  futile 
t  to  catch  you, 
,re  already.     If 


UNDER  SEALED   ORDERS.      • 


429 


I'm  Ruric  Brassoflf— as  I  am — don't  let  lis  waste 
any  more  of  my  precious  time  upon  such  danger- 
ous nonsense.  Let's  get  to  business  at  once. 
I've  come  to  reliev  you  of  a  great  responsibil- 
ity." 

"Hush,  hush!"  Fui.i  nko  cried,  sitting  down, 
and  leaning  across  toward  him  eagerly.  "You 
must  be  very  careful.  Mind  what  you  say  or 
'o.  We're  surrounded  just  now  by  enemies  on 
every  side.  I  can  see  them  9very  where.  There's 
a  lodger  downstairs,  for  example — a  woman  with 
great  staring  eyes,  a  milliner  or  something — 
she's  a  spy,  I'm  certain.  Ai-^  there's  a  man 
next  door,  a  sort  of  official  or  underling,  who 
meets  me  on  the  stairs  a  great  deal  oftener  than 
I  think  at  all  natural ;  I  believe  he's  watching 
mo.  I'd  have  moved  from  these  apartments  long 
ago,  in  fact,  and  cleaned  them  of  documents,  only 
I  was  afraid  of  exciting  still  greater  suspicion  if 
I  weat  away  elsewhere.  And,  besides — I  was 
waiting  for — I  was  expecting  visitors." 

"Myself,  in  fact,"  Mr.  Hay  ward  suggested. 

"Well,  at  any  rate,  Ruric  Bi  issoff."  -., 

Mr.  Hayward  leaned  quietly        vard. 

"Now,  Fomenko,  my  dear  frit-nd,"  he  said, 
in  a  very  grave  voice,  "you've  admitted  the  fact 
openly,  yourself,  and  if  I  were  a  spy  I  should  by 
this  time  have  everything  I  could  wish,  against 
you.  But  I'm  noi  a  spy.  As  I  told  you  .ust 
now,  I'm  Ruric  Brassoff.  Why  do  you  kasi- 
tate  to  believe  itP  That  handwriting  I've 
just  showed  you  is  the  hand  you  have  always 
so  gladly  obeyed.     I  know  your  dtvotion.     No 


-^;l 


s  ^ 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


patriot  more  eager.  If  I  haJ  sent  you  an  order 
through  the  regular  channels,  signed  with  that 
self-same  name— I  remember  your  fidelity  well 
—you  know  yourself  you  would  implicitly  have 
obeyed  it." 

The  young  man  hesitated.  -^ 

"Yes,  certainly,"  he  said  at  last— "if  it  came, 
as  you  say,  through  the  regular  channels." 

"But  you  doubt  me,  all  the  same.*"  And  he 
looked  at  him  reproachfully. 

Fomeuko  smiled  a  faint  smile.  His  moral 
courage  was  great,  his  physical  courage  feeble. 

•'Spies are  so  clever,"  he  murmured  low — "and 
forgery's  so  easy." 

"But  what  makes  you  doubt F"  Mr.  HayAvard 
asked,  laying  his  hand  on  the  young  man's  arm. 

"Well,  I  saw  a  portrait  of  Ruric  Brassofif 
onre,"  Fomenko  answered,  blushing,  "and,  to 
tell  you  the  truth,  dear  friend,  even  allowing  for 
age  and  disguise  and  all  that,  you  don't  in  the 
feast  resemble  him.'' 

A  wonderful  light  dawned  in  Mr.  Hay  ward's 
eyes.  With  an  outburst  of  emotion,  he  seized  the 
young  man  by  the  wrist  and  pulled  him  toward 
him,  unresisting.  The  maneuver  was  well  de- 
vised. That  magnetic  touch  seemed  to  thrill 
through  Fomonko's  frame,  as  it  had  often 
thrilled  "through  Owen  Cazalet's.  *  Then,  in  a 
low,  quick  voice  Mr.  Hayward  began  to  pour 
Into  his  brother-conspirator's  ear  the  same  as- 
tounding tal'i  of  a  hard-won  victory  over  Nature 
and  his  own  body  which  he  had  poured  into 
Olga  Mireflf's  m  the  sanctum  at  Bond  Street. 


5^-*^r-^  '-'■ffi-^,'!^^-''.'^'^''' 


¥1 


ER8. 


UNDER  SEALED   ORDERS. 


481 


nt  you  an  order 

igoed  with  that 

>ur  fidelity  well 

implicitly  have 


st— "if  it  came, 
3hannels." 
ime!"'     And  he 

le.  His  moral 
courage  feeble. 
Lxred  low — "and 

'  Mr.  HayAvard 
ung  man's  arm. 
Ruric  Brassofif 
3hing,  "and,  to 
en  allowing  for 
you.  don't  in  the 

Mr.  Hay  ward's 
on,  he  seized  the 
led  him  toward 
>r  was  well  de- 
)Bmed  to  thrill 
it  had  often 
8.  •  Then,  in  a 
began  to  pour 
r  the  same  as- 
)ry  over  Nature 
id  poured  into 
it  Bond  Street. 


Fomenko  listened  all  responsive,  with  a  sym- 
pathetic tremor  that  rang  resonant  through  his 
inmost  marrow.  Theeffect  was  marvelous.  As 
Mr.  Hayward  went  on,  the  young  man  flushed 
rosy  red,  all  doubt  and  fear  loft  him.  When  the 
Chief  had  finished  his  tale,  Fomenko  rose  all 
tremulous,  and  in  a  tumult  of  feeling  wrung 
his  hand  twice  or  thrice.  Then,  yielding  to  an 
Oriental  impulse,  he  fell  on  the  elder's  bosom, 
and  sobbed  aloud  for  a  minute  with  almost  in- 
audible murmurs.  He  spoke  very  low  and  cau- 
tiously, but  he  spoke  out  his  full  heart. 

"Ruric  Bnvssoff,  Ruric  Brassofif!"  he  cried, 
in  a  tone  of  profovmd  shame,  "forgive  me,  for- 
give  me.  If  for  one  second  I  seemed  to  doubt 
you,  it  was  not  you,  but  them,  that  I  feared  and 
doubted.  I  doubt  no  longer  now.  I  fear  no 
longer.  I  know  you  at  once  by  your  great  words 
for  Russia's  truest  son.  I  thank  God  I  have 
lived  to  hear  that  noble  voice.  Command,  and 
I  will  obey.     I  am  yours,  for  Russia!" 

A  sympathetic  moisture  stood  dim  in  Mr.  Hay- 
ward's  eyes.  The  revolutionist  within  him  was 
now  thoroughly  awakened  once  more.  Ashamed 
as  he  felt  of  himself,  and  of  the  double  part  he 
was  perforce  playing,  he  was  yet  proud  of  dis- 
ciples like  Michael  Fomenko.  And,  after  all, 
he  said  to  his  own  heart,  it  rcas  for  Russia,  for 
Russia.  For  was  it  not  better  in  the  long  run 
for  Russia  that  she  should  have  Owen  Cazalet's 
sympathy  and  aid  from  afar  oflp  in  England  than 
that  he  should  be  cut  off  in  all  his  youth  and 
strength  and  beauty,  who  might  do  and  dare  so 


74 


tm 


4J2 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


much  in  quieter  Jind  more  peaceful  ways  to  serve 
and  befriend  her? 

Ho  sat  down  at  the  table,  took  a  pen  in  his 
hand  and  wrote  a  few  wortls  t)n  a  scrap  of  paper, 
which  ho  handed  to  Fomenko. 

"There,"  he  said,  "if  you  Avant  more  proof, 
is  the  last  order  I  sent  you,  from  the  inn  at 
Smolensk." 

But  Fomenko,  hardly  looking  at  it,  made  an- 
swer in  a  tone  of  the  most  fervid  enthusiasm : 

"I  need  no  proof  at  all.  I  only  ask  your  par- 
don. Now  I  have  once  heartl  Ruric  BrassoflF's 
own  grand  words,  Ruric  Brassoff's  own  authen- 
tic voice,  I  require  nothing  further.  Your 
Bj)eech  is  enough.  It  is  the  tongue  of  a  seer, 
a  priest,  a  prophet." 

The  Chief  took  his  hand  once  more.  He 
wrung  it  hard.  He  held  it,  trembling.  Heart 
went  out  to  heart.  They  two  thrilled  in  har- 
mony. For  a  moment  neither  broke  that  sacred 
silence.  Then  Ruric  Brassoflf  spoke  again. 
"*'And  you  can  trust  me?"  he  asked,  gently. 

"Implicitly." 

Again  the  great  Nihilist  pressed  his  follower's 
hand  hard.  Oh,  how  glad  he  was  he  had  to  deal 
with  a  poet's  soul  like  this,  instead  of  with  a 
mere  suspicious  and  pi-agmatical  fool  like  Vale- 
rian Stefanovic! 

"And  you  don't  mind  what  that  narrow  brain 
has  written  you  from  ParisV"  he  asked  again. 

The  young  man  smiled  an  almost  contemptu- 
ous smile. 

"Stefanovicl"  he  cried.     "Stefanovic!     And 


•'i«^*.-Si^i*!f.>iSiiv: 


bSW*ii4*^!Sg,i,&.*XR.*ijSJte(  <» 


R8. 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


433 


1  ways  to  serve 

k  a  pen  in  his 
scrap  of  paper, 

it  more  proof, 
om  the  inn  at 

it  it,  made  an- 
^nthusiasm : 
T  ask  your  par- 
uric  BrassoflF's 
8  own  authen- 
iirther.  Your 
igue  of  a  seer, 

ce  more.  He 
ibling.  Heart 
irilled  in  har- 
jke  that  sacred 
ke  again, 
iked,  gently. 

I  his  follower's 
he  had  to  deal 
)ead  of  with  a 
fool  like  Vale- 

t  narrow  brain 
fisked  again. 
)st  contemptu- 

'anovic !    And 


when  yoxi  are  in  question!  Oh,  the  bathos  of 
it,  the  absurdity!  Mind  what  that  poor  thing 
says — that  poor  cramped  small  nature!  Beside 
Ruric  Brassoff's  words !"  He  took  his  Chief's 
palm  like  a  woman's  between  his  own  two.  "I 
know  what  enthusiasm  means,"  he  went  on, 
leaning  over  it.  "For  your  sake — in  your  com- 
pnny — I  could  die,  Ruric  Brassoff." 

The  Chief  stepped  back  just  one  pace,  and  fixed 
his  eyes  hard  on  the  young  man's. 

"Then  give  me  back  the  sealed  envelope!"  he 
said,  in  a  tone  of  command  like  a  military  officer. 

Without  a  moment's  hesitation  Fomenko  hast- 
ened over  to  the  cabinet  at  the  side,  with  the 
locked  drawers  and  pigeon-holes,  took  a  key  from 
his  pocket  and  drew  out  a  small  bundle  of  care- 
fully tied  documents.  From  it,  after  a  short 
search,  he  selected  an  envelope  with  a  large  red 
seal. 

"Take  your  own,  Ruric  Brassoff,"  he  said,  in 
a  very  firm  voice,  handing  the  paper  across  to 
him,  "You  know  better  than  I  what  is  best  for 
Russia.  I  hold  it  in  trust  from  you.  Though  I 
die  for  it,  take  it." 

"And  die  for  it  you  will,"  a  loud  voice  inter- 
rupted. Some  one  seized  hand  and  arm,  and 
intercepted  the  envelope. 

In  an  agony  of  surprise,  Michael  Fomenko 
stared  round.  Ruric  Brassoff,  by  his  side,  leaped 
back  astonished.  For  a  moment  the  young 
journalist  was  dazed.  It  was  the  voice  of  the 
gentlemanly  man  who  had  lodgings  on  the  same 
floor;  and  beside  him  stood  the  good-hiunored 


4: 


434 


UNDER   flEALRD   ORDERS. 


commercial   j)er8on   who  travel(»cl   in    tea,    and 
whom  Ruric  BraHHoff  had  seen  at  Smolensk. 

In  the  backgroimd,  half-a-dozen  of  the  hoI- 
diers,  in  plain  clothes,  with  blue  spectacles  or 
light  canes,  cume  tumbling  through  the  wall. 
But  they  were  armed  with  short  swords  now, 
and  held  in  their  hands  regulation  revolvers. 


■  ( 


.V\ 


:Vrn  -"■« 


jj-«»-*.<3  ■-'*«->»^W«I»»»!i8riSBfW«Ss«Pi«WWW»-»M 


ER8. 

)d  in  tea,  and 
at  Smolensk, 
izen  of  the  8ol- 
iie  Bpectacles  or 
rough  the  wall. 
irt  swords  now, 
m  revolvers. 


'    \ 


^4\ 


UNDBK  SEALED  ORDERS. 


486 


:■■  -n;..  i4- 


.'    \ 


CHAPTER  XLVIII. 

THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW. 

It  was  a  miuute  or  two  before  Mr.  Hay  ward 
— or  Ruric  Brassoff,  as  you  will — stunned  and 
surprised  by  this  sudden  invasion,  had  a  clear 
enough  head  to  take  in  what  had  happened. 
Then,  as  he  gazed  about  him  slowly  with  one 
soldier  on  each  side,  and  felt  his  arms  being 
helplessly  pinioned  behind  him,  he  began  to 
realize  all  was  up,  and  to  see  how  the  intruders 
had  entered  so  noiselessly.         ,, 

The  cupboard  door  on  the  opposite  side  from 
the  cabinet  now  stood  wide  open.  But  the  cup- 
board itself,  as  he  could  see  to  his  surprise,  had 
no  back  or  partition ;  it  opened  direct  into  the 
adjoining  room,  and  through  the  temporary  door- 
way thus  formed  he  could  catch  vistas  of  still 
more  soldiers  in  civilian  costume,  waiting  the 
word  of  command,  and  all  armed  with  revolvers. 
In  a  moment,  he  recognized  how  they  had  man- 
aged this  capture.  The  soldiers  must  have  sawed 
through  the  wooden  back  of  two  adjacent  cup- 
boards beforehand,  and  at  the  exact  right  mo- 
ment noiselessly  removed  the  whole  intervening 
woodwork,  shelves  and  contents  and  all,  s»  as 
to  give  access  direct  to  Fomeuko's  apartment. 
More,  too!  the  two  principals  must  have  listened 


4 


I 


>;! 


4  30 


rNl»ER    SKAI.KI)   ORnKRS. 


through  the  koyliohi  of  tlio  putermoHt  door  to 
thoir  ontirocoiiversfition.  One  ihish  of  intuition 
sulRcoti  to  show  him  thHt  Alnxis  Selistoff's  niyr- 
miilunH  now  knew  exiutly  who  l,i>  ^va^^  imd  why 
ho  canio  tlioro,  f  ^ow  hm  they  twa  had  H|)okou,  ho 
conlchi't  pont'oul  fr^m  hitnsolf  the  fm^t  that  they 
jniist  hiive  heard  him  acknowledge  he  was  Rnric 
BrasHoiV. 

The  good-humored  (!onunercial  traveler  stepped 
forward  with  an  air  of  authority  as  soon  as  the 
chief  prisoner  was  safely  pinioned,  and  laid  his 
iiand  hard  on  his  captive's  shoulder.  "JVinee 
Riu'ic  Br  w)ff,"  he  said,  in  a  formal  voice,  "I 
arroHt  yoi.,  excellency  on  a  charge  of  conspiracy 
agaii,  his  Most  Sacred  and  Most  Orthodox  Maj- 
esty, the  Czir  of  all  the  RuHaias." 

"Traitor!"  Ruric  Brassoflf  answered,  turning 
upon  him  with  a  face  of  the  utmost  <  ontempt 
and  loathing.  "Vile  spy  and  reptile,  I'm 
ashamed  of  having  spoken  to  you." 

The  commercial  gentleman  smiled  blandly  and 
good-humoredly.  "Your  own  fault,"  he  said, 
with  a  quiet  air  of  official  triumph.  "You  let 
j'ouraelf  in  for  it.  You  should  choose  your  ac- 
quaintances better.  My  name  is  Nikita,  chief 
clerk  and  secretary  to  General  -VJexis  Selistoff." 

He  turned  to  his  second  prisoner.  "Michael 
Fomenko,  author  and  journalist,"  he  said,  in  the 
same  formal  voice,  "I  arrest  you  as  aaiiccom- 
plic^e  of  Prince  Ruric  Brassoff  in  his  conspiracy 
against  his  Most  Sacred  and  Most  Orthodox 
Majesty." 

Fomenko,  white  as  a  sheet,  stood  still  and 


■  x-s,.K*ty.K(^'f.:'Afii 


KR8.  ' 

termoHt  door  to 
lliish  of  intuition 
1  SelifltotT'H  niyr- 
lio  Wii!-  mul  why 
i>  hi  1(1  H|)okun,  ho 
10  fact  that  thty 
y;e  he  was  Ruric 

traveler  stepped 
y  as  soon  a-i  the 
od,  and  laid  his 
aider.  "JVince 
formal  voif'«,  "I 
je  of  eonspiracy 
t  Orthodox  Maj- 

swered,  turning 
itmost  contempt 
d  reptile,  I'm 
ou." 

ilod  hlandly  and 
fault,"  he  said, 
nph.  "You  let 
choose  j-our  ac- 
is  Nikita,  chief 
Jexis  Selistoff." 
meiT.  "Michael 
"  ho  said,  in  the 
m  as  Mil  iiecom- 
1  his  conspiracy 
Most   Orthodox 

stood  still  and 


H 


t    ■ 


UNPEK   HKAI-KH   ORDKRS. 


487 


answered  nothing'.      Hi'^   li»"or  wan  all  ior  the 
(irrost  and  hotrayal  of  Ruric  Mrassoff. 

The  soldiers  gripped  their  arm^.  Two  stood 
in  front  of  each,  two  behind,  two  l)osid.>  thorn. 
Nikita  turned  triumphant  t(»  tlio  gentlemanly 
lodger  next  door.  "I  think,  xMajor  and  Count," 
he  Huid  smiling,  "we  may  really  congratulate 
ourrtolvoH  upon  having  offecrted  this  imiKJrtant 
and   difficult   arrest   without   tr;nible   or   hlood- 

sIumI." 

The  count  bowed  and  mKlded.  Ho  was  all 
polite  acciuiesconce.  "And  especially  on  hav- 
ing secured  this  incriminating  document,"  he 
said,  turning  it  over— "unopened." 

Ruric  Rrassoff  glanced  round  in  a  ferment  of 
horn.r,  for  Owen's  sake.  The  count  held  the 
envelope  in  his  hand,  with  every  appearance  of 
care,  and  gazed  at  the  seal  abstractedly.  What 
was  he  going  to  do  with  it?  That  was  the  (laos- 
tion.  Oh,  if  only  they  had  arrived  one  moment 
later,  the  Chief  thought  with  a  thrill  of  remorse, 
he  could  have  dung  it  in  the  fire  that  burned 
brightly  in  the  grate!  But  they  timtHl  their  ar- 
rival well.  Too  well,  t,)o  cleverly.  They  must 
have  been  listening  and  waiting  for  the  critical 
moment  to  arrive,  with  ear  at  the  crack  of  the 
door,  and  eye  at  the  keyhole.  On  the  turning- 
point  they  entered.  The  envelope  was  in  their 
hands.  All,  all  was  lost!  Alexis  Selistoff 
would  now  learn  Owen  ( 'azalet's  secret. 

"Yes,  unopened,"  Nikita  echoed,  closing  his 
lips  firm  like  a  rat-trap.  "That's  important, 
very.     His  excellency's   orders   are  that  we're 


Sm. 


:( 


488 


UNDRR  SKALRD  ORDERh. 


pi 
mi 


m 


to  koop  it  intHct  till  ho  nrrivoH  in  MoHcov\r.  Ho 
(lofiir(<s  nohjtly  to  know  its  coiitonts  but  liitnHelf. 
Tlii»  is  u  Htute  of  iitfairH.  I  havo  hJH  oxc'oUoncy'H 
own  liHtul  for  it.  Kxcubo  mo,  count,  you  must 
give  mo  tlio  letter." 

Tho  niilitiiry  iniin  Immloil  it  ovor  with  Ji  HiiUito. 
Nikitti  wrapped  it  carefully  in  the  folils  of  hiu 
crtpacioUH  pockotbook,  ami  placed  it  with  dofor- 
onco  in  his  broast  pocket.  The  count  stopped 
aside,  and  ^jjavo  tlio  word  to  the  KoldiorH,  "For- 
ward !"  Prompt  on  the  coiamand,  they  marched 
tlio  prisoners  down  the  stairs  and  to  the  door  of 
the  house,  one  afttjr  the  other,  in  silence.  . 

Below,  two  largo  Kleitjhs  wore  in  waiting— not 
common  drosohkys,  but  luKidhome  i)rivato  con- 
veyances of  a  family  character.  A  soldier  driver 
HJit  on  the  liox  of  each.  In  the  first — for  due 
pretiedonce  must  always  bo  observed,  even  where 
criminals  are  conciorned — the  count  took  his 
place,  with  Ruric  Brassoff  by  his  side;  the  sec- 
ond contained  Nikita  and  Michael  Fomenko. 
Two  soldiers  in  plain  clothes  sat  upright  behind 
in  either  sleigh,  with  revolvers  in  their  hands. 
"Shoot  if  ho  trios  to  move,"  tho  count  said  calm- 
ly, and  the  soldiers  saluted.  They  drove  rapidly 
along  tho  streets,  the  bells  tinkling  merrily  on 
the  crisp  air  as  they  went.  In  Paris  or  Lon- 
don, tho  c;)rtege  would  have  excited  no  little  at- 
tention. But  in  Moscow,  better  drilled,  people 
lojked  the  other  way;  thoy  knew  it  was  a  case 
of  political  prisoners,  and  even  to  display  too 
ardent  a  curiosity  might  prove  a  bad  thing  for 
the  sympathetic  bystander.        j^-.    ^/",  ', 


i'l'^HfthJ-;;  ■ 


<-<it^*!irt?*S-  ■.i<' ■, ife-i-Aite'V^ » 


^ 


iMoscow.  Ho 
I?*  \>nt  JiirnHelf. 

is  oxcolloncy'H 
>iint,  you  must 

p  with  !v  Hill  lite, 
in  folds  of  \m 

it  vvitli  (lofor- 

couiit  stopi)e<l 
■soldiers,  "For- 
,  thoy  marcbod 

to  the  door  of 
iloiico. 

I  WHiting— not 
u  piivHto  con- 
L  soldier  driver 

first— for  due 
«1,  even  where 
'unt    took    his 

side ;  the  soc- 
lol  Fomenko. 
pright  behind 

their  hands. 
Jnt  said  calm- 
drove  rapidly 
f?  merrily  on 
'aris  or  Lon- 
i  no  little  at- 
irilled,  people 
t  was  a  case 
)  display  too 
>ad  thing  for 


n*-':*-*!"^*-':- 


FNOKU   SKAKKD   OUnKHS. 


Tlio  Hleighs  drew  up  at  last  before  the  profect- 
un>  of  urban  police.  TIk*  prlHonors  wtTo  tum- 
bled out  and  hurried  into  a  room  where  a  com- 
tuiHsary  sat  awaiting  thorn,  lu  a  Hxed  official 
voice,  Nikita  gave  their  names  and  the  char;.;eM 
Mu;ainst  them,  with  no  more  emotion  in  his  tones 
than  if  he  were  accusing  two  well-known  offcnd- 
(«rH  of  j)ettj'  liircfny.  "Prince  Ruric  HraHsoff, 
formerly  Aulic  Councilor  and  Chamberlain  to 
her  Imperial  Majesty  the  Empress;  charged  with 
participating  in  a  murderous  pint  against  the  life 
of  the  Most  Sacred  and  Most  Orthodox  C/ar; 
and  Michael  Fomenko,  author  and  journalist, 
charged  with  being  an  accomplice  to  said  Rurio 
Brassoff." 

The  commissary  noted  down  the  wortling  of 
the  charges  with  official  exactness.  Even  in 
RuHsia,  red  tape  keeps  up  some  show  of  legality. 
"Remitted  to  the  Central  Prison  till  to-morrow 
morning,"  the  commissary  said  dryly.  Then  in 
a  different  voice,  turning  to  Nikita,  he  added, 
"You  expect  General  Selistoff  by  the  night 
train,  doubtless?" 

"Yes,  he  arrives  to-morrow  morning,"  Nikita 
answered  with  a  pleased  nod.  "Ho  will  exam- 
ine the  prisoners  in  person.  Their  infonnation 
may  be  important.  Madame  Mireff  is  here  al- 
ready. She  will  be  confronted  with  the  con- 
spirators when  the  General  arrives.  We  expect 
she  can  give  evidence  of  some  value  against 
them."   - 

"For  the  rest,"  the  count  said,  nonchalantly 
twirling  his  pointed  mustache,  "what  we  over- 


:',jjp-^jJi^i^  '—^ 


440 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


m 


heard  ourselves  in  Fomenko's  room  is  quite 
enough  to  condemn  them.  This  gentleman  ad- 
mitted he  was  Prince  Brassoff.  And  M.  Nikita 
has  secured  the  important  document  which  the 
General  desired  should  be  brought  to  him 
unopened." 

The  commissary  nodded.  "To  the  Central 
Prison,"  he  said  once  more,  after  a  few  more 
formalities  had  been  gone  through  in  a  p)erfunc- 
tory  fashion.  The  soldiers  marched  them  out 
again,  and  put  them  back  in  the  sleighs,  and 
they  drove  away,  still  more  rapidly,  toward  their 
place  of  detention. 

That  night  Ruric  BrassoflF  passed  in  a  solitary 
cell,  fitted  up  with  some  petty  concessions  to  his 
princely  rank,  but  otherwise  bare  and  cold  and 
wretched  acd  uncomfortable.  And  all  night 
long  he  thought  of  Owen  Cazalet  and  loneDrac- 
opoli,  and  of  what  could  have  brc  .ght  Olga 
Mireff  at  this  juncture  to  Moscow. 

If  only  he  could  have  seen  her  for  one  minute 
alone!  If  only  he  could  have  said  to  her,  "Ni- 
kita has  an  envelope.  Kill  him!  Secure  it! 
Destroy  it!"  But  there  he  lay  helpless,  cooped 
up  in  that  narrow  prison  cell ;  and  when  he  saw 
Oiga  to-movTow  morning,  perhaps  it  would  be 
too  late;  perhaps  he  would  be  unable  to  commu- 
nicate with  her  at  all;  perhaps  he  might  find 
her  a  traitor  to  Russia. 

His  own  life  ho  gave  up— he  owed  it  to  Rus- 
sia. And  for  Russia,  he  despaired  But  one 
thing  still  troubled  him.  He  wished  he  could 
only  have  saved  Owen  from  the  sword  of  Dum- 


,iw^r!^<r'-^pjs ' 


IDEKS. 

'b  room  is  quite 
lis  gentleman  ad- 
And  M.  Nikita 
lument  which  the 
brought    to    him 

"To  the  Central 
after  a  few  more 
ugh  in  a  perf  unc- 
arched  them  out 
the  sleighs,  and 
idly,  toward  their 

issod  in  a  solitary 
concessions  to  his 
are  and  cold  and 
And  all  night 
fit  and  lone  Drac- 
re   brc  .ght  Olga 

5W. 

jr  for  one  minute 
said  to  her,  "Ni- 
bim!  Secure  it! 
'■  helpless,  cooped 
and  when  he  saw 
laps  it  would  be 
luable  to  commu- 
)S  he  might  find 

i  owed  it  to  Rus- 
►aired  But  one 
wished  he  could 
e  sword  of  Dam- 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


m 


ocles  that  must  hang  forever  henceforth  over  his 
liead  and  lone's. 

Olga  Mirefi!  in  Moscow!  What  could  have 
brought  her  there,  he  wondered.  A  horrible 
doubt  rose  floating  for  a  moment  in  his  mind 
like  a  hateful  picture.  Had  Olga  turned  against 
him?  No,  no;  he  flung  the  doubt  from  him  like 
an  evil  dream.  Yet  stay!  what  was  this?  He 
was  a  traitor  himself.  Whom  could  Russia  trust 
now,  if  Ruric  BrassoflE  betrayed  her? 

And  th  Ml,  in  a  sudden  flash  of  insight,  Fo- 
menko's  casual  words  came  back  to  him  with  a 
now  and  unsuspected  meaning.  That  "lodger 
downstairs,  a  woman  with  great  staring  eyes,  a 
milliner  or  something,"  whom  he  took  to  be  a 
3py_who  on  earth  could  it  be  but  Olga  Mireff  ? 

Was  she  there  to  betray  them  or  to  warn  them? 
— tbat  was  the  great  problem.  Would  she  turn 
up  to  befriend  him  to-morrow  morning  at  that 
supreme  moment,  or  to  confront  and  denounce 
him  as  a  convicted  conspirator. 

He  had  played  for  a  terrible  intake  and  lost. 
If  Olga  foraook  him,  all  was  finished  indeed — 
and  Owen  would  be  at  Alexis  Selistoff's  mercy. 


•KW  -  ^**%-  ir  «Bfi?a3 


^'^•.j^-4r-Y"'""'. 


t 


^!i 


ittam 


442 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


W^-f^- 


pSfc'?: 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

AT  THE   THIRD   SECTION.  jf 

Early  next  morning  a  jailer  unlocked  the  door 
brusquely. 

"Prince  Ruric  Brassoff,"  he  said  in  a  shrill 
voice  of  command,  strangely  mingled  with  con- 
ventional respect  for  his  prisoner's  high  rank, 
"get  up  and  dress  at  once.  General  Alexis  Selis- 
toflE  requires  your  presence  immediately  at  the 
Kremlin." 

Starting  from  his  prison  bed,  Ruric  Brassofif 
rose  and  dressed,  in  a  maze  of  conflicting  feel- 
ings. They  brought  him  some  breakfast.  He 
sat  down  at  the  plain  deal  table  and  ate  it  me- 
chanically. Tlien  he  went  out  to  the  prison 
gate,  where  a  warder,  without  a  word,  put  his 
hands  in  irons.  Ruric  Brassoff  accepted  thai 
indignity  in  dignified  silence.  A  sleigh  was  in 
waiting  there — only  one,  this  morning.  Fomen- 
ko  wasn't  wanted.  The  minor  prisoner's  reofc 
had  not  been  disturbed  so  early. 

It  was  a  clear,  keen  niorning  of  the  true  Rus- 
sian type.  Fresh  snow  had  fallen  during  the 
night  and  lay  white  in  the  streets,  and  the  horses 


>KRS. 


K. 


ION. 


alocked  the  door 

said  in  a  shrill 
ngled  with  con- 
ler's  high  rank, 
ral  Alexis  Selis- 
nediately  at  the 

,  Ruric  Brassoff 
conflicting  feel- 
breakfast.  He 
e  and  ate  it  me- 
t  to  the  prison 
I  word,  put  his 
E  accepted  thai 
A  sleigh  was  in 
ruing.  Fomen- 
prisoner's  rest 

»f  the  true  Rus- 
len  during  the 
,  and  the  horses 


'I 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


443 


danced  merrily  over  it  with  the  light  weight  be- 
hind them.  At  the  door  of  the  branch  office  of 
the  Third  Section  they  halted. 

"Descend,  prince, "  Nikita  said  shortly.  And 
Ruric  Brassoff  descended. 

Two  soldiers  took  his  arms  on  either  side  and 
marched  him  up  the  stairs,  unresisting  and  ac- 
quiescent. Ruric  Brassoff  'marched  on,  as  in  a 
horrible  dream.  At  the  door  of  an  office  on  the 
first  floor  they  knocked  twice. 

•'Co'!ne  in,"  said  a  sharp  military  voice  from 
within.  Across  the  gulf  of  twenty  years. Rurio 
Brassoff  recognized  it  as  clearly  as  if  he  had  heard 
it  yesterday.     It  was  Alexis  Selistoff's. 

The  soldiers  turned  the  handle  and  marched  in 
without  a  word.  It  was  a  comfortably  furnished 
office,  with  a  Turkey  carpet  on  the  floor  and  a 
bright  fire  in  the  grate.  Alexis  Selistoff,  calm 
and  stern,  stood  up  with  his  back  to  the  chim- 
ney-piece. The  gray  mustache  twitched  slightly 
with  nervousness  as  he  looked  his  prisoner  in  the 
face— the  fox  he  had  hunted  so  long  and  tracked 
to  earth  at  last— but  no  other  sign  of  emotion  was 
visible  anywhere  on  those  austere  features.  He 
looked  the  very  picture  of  an  official  martinet,  as 
he  fitood  there,  staring  hard  at  Ruric  Brassoff. 
But  he  bowed  a  polite  bow,  none  the  less,  as  he 
muttered,  calmly: 

"Good -morning,    prince,"    with  soldier -like 

j>oliteness. 

And  Ruric  Brassoff  ansvrered  in  the  self-same 

tone: 

"Good-morning,  excellency." 


«r 


Mnc 


rm 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


A  lady  was  seated  in  a  chair  at  tbe  further 
end  of  the  room.  As  Ruric  Brassofif  ent^ied,  she 
rose,  and  gazed  him  full  ia  the  face.  It  was 
Olga  Mireff.  Once,  and  once  only,  her  bosom 
heaved  tumultuouslj\  Neither  said  a  word,  but 
their  eyes  met;  that  was  enough.  In  a  moment 
Ruric  Brassoff  knew  his  follower  was  true  as 
steel.  Her  look  was  a  look  of  the  purest  wo- 
manly devotion.  But  it  smote  him  to  the  heart. 
For  the  eyes  meant  supreme  faith.  It  repented 
him  that  he  had  mistrusted  her  —  that  great- 
hearted,  single-minded,  noble  patriot,   Olga! 

Alexis  Selistoff  was  the  first  to  break  the  long 
dramatic  pause.     He  scanned    iiis  man  close. 

"You've  disguised  yourself  wonderfully, "  he 
said  at  last.  "They  told  me  you  were  altered. 
But  still  I  should  have  known  you.  I  should 
have  known  you  anywhere.  There's  Brassoff  in 
those  eyes  even  now,  and  in  the  firm  set  of  that 
head.  All  the  rest  has  changed,  prince.  All 
the  rest  has  turned  traitor." 

"To  the  tyrant,  not  to  Russia,"  Ruric  Brassoff 
answered,  undaunted. 

Alexis  Selistoff  sniffed  the  air. 

"Give  me  that  envelope,  Nikita,"  he  said, 
turning  pound ;  and  Nikita  gave  it.him. 

The  general,  moving  forward  a  step,  laid  it 
down  on  the  desk  that  occupied  the  chief  place  in 
the  room.  / 

"Undo  those  irons!"  he  went  on,  coldly,  with 
military  brevity.     And  the  soldier  undid  them. 

"Leave  us!"  the  general  murmured,  with  an 
authoritative  wave  of  the  hand,  as  Ruric  Brass- 


-i 


Ra. 


at  the  further 
)ff  entoied,  she 

face.  It  was 
ily,  her  bosom 
id  a  word,  but 

In  a  moment 
r  was  true  as 
the  purest  wo- 
n  to  the  heart. 
.  It  repented 
—  that  great- 
triot,  Olga ! 
break  the  long 
is  man  close. 
aderfuUy,"  he 
I  were  altered, 
ou.  I  should 
e's  BrassoflP  in 
irm  set  of  that 

prince.     All 

Ruric  Brassoflf 


ita,"  he  said, 
.him. 

i  step,  laid  it 
chief  place  in 

I,  coldly,  with 

r  undid  them. 

ured,  with  an 

Raric  Brass- 


UNDER   SKALED   ORDERS. 


445 


off  shook  himself  free  with  a  natural  gesture  of 
satisfaction  at  the  removal  of  the  handcuffs. 

But  Nikita,  standing  aghast,  ventured  one 
moment  to  remonstrate. 

"His  hands  are  free,  excellency,"  he  said, 
deprecatingly.  "Would  It  not  be  well  for  one 
other  man  at  least  to  remain  in  the  room  to  guard 
him?" 

Alexis  Selistoff  turned  round  with  an  angry 
shrog  of  impatience. 

"Go  when  you're  told,  fellow!"  he  said, 
haughtily,  a  fierce  light  in  his  eyes.  "Am  I 
commander  here  or  you^  Soldiers  are  mounting 
guard,  I  suppose,  at  the  door,  as  usual.  And  a 
Selistoff  is  match  enough  at  any  time  for  any 
man." 

At  sight  of  the  frown  Nikita  and  the  trooper 
made  haste  to  save  themselves.  As  the  door 
closed  Alexis  Selistoff  fell  back  into  the  arm- 
chair by  the  desk.  Olga  Mireff  sank  into  another 
chair  a  little  on  one  side,  toying  nervously  with 
a  flower  or  something  else  in  her  bosom.  Ruric 
Brassoff  stood  up,  with  his  hands  now  free,  fac- 
ing his  interrogator  full  front  with  a  look  of  fixed 
pride  and  defiance,  and  separated  from  him  by 
the  breadth  of  the  desk  only. 

General  Selistoff  stared  at  the  Nihilist  as  one 
stares  at  some  strange  wild  beast. 

"I  have  a  revolver  in  my  pocket,"  he  said, 
slowly.  "It's  loaded  and  cocked.  Stand  there 
where  you  are,  prince.  If  you  come  a  step  nearer, 
I  draw  and  fire  upon  you." 

Madame  Mireff  looked  mutely  at  her  friend, 


•h* 


p 


446 


UNDER   8EALBD   ORDERS. 


and  her  eyes  seemed  to  say:  *'  Wait  your  chance. 
Caution;  caution!" 

The  general,  getting  to  business,  glanced  care- 
lessly first  at  a  bundle  of  documents  found  in 
Fomenko's  rooms.  They  were  of  precisely  the 
same  character  as  those  already  seized  at  Os- 
sinsky's,  in  Kieflf. 

"  I  thought  so, "  he  said,  quietly,  with  half  a 
glance  at  the  little  gong  that  stood  by  his  side,  one 
touch  on  which  would  have  summoned  his  armed 
guards.  "This  envelope,  which  answers  in 
every  respect  to  the  one  we  missed  at  Kieff, 
contains  the  assumed  name  and  present  address 
of  my  misguided  l>rother's  son,  young  Sergius 
Selistoff.  "We  now  know  what  became  of  the 
one  in  Ossinsky's  possession.  You  revolution- 
ists, unhappily,  will  stick  at  nothing.  When 
our  men  went  to  arrest  him,  Ossinsky  seized  the 
criminating  document,  chewed  it  up  and  swal- 
lowed it."  ,  ;•»;:'>«,- 

Ruric  Brassoff  smiled. 

"Ossinsky  was  a  brave  man,"  he  said,  calmly, 
fronting  his  captor  without  a  single  trace  of  fear. 
"In  my  failure,  it  cousoles  me  at  least  to  know 
such  brave  men  and  women  as  these  have  been 
closely  associated  with  me." 

Alexis  Selistoff  held  the  envelope  gingerly  in 
his  bronzed  hands. 

"I  should  have  hunted  this  j'oung  traitor  down 
till  T  found  him  and  punished  him,"  hj  said, 
very  resolutely,  "i'  I  had  been  compelled  to  do 
It  shames  me  ro  think  that  one  of  the  SelLs- 
blood  and  lineage  shouM   be  mixed  up  ii; 


it. 


mmi 


wm 


ERS. 

lit  your  chance. 

IS,  glanced  care- 
tnents  found  in 
of  precisely  the 
.'  seized  at  Os- 

ily,  with  half  a 
by  his  side,  ono 
loned  his  armed 
'h  answers  in 
issed  at  Kieff, 
present  address 
young  Sergius 
became  of  the 
'"ou  revolution- 
3tb^'ng.  "When 
nsky  seized  the 
t  up  and  swal- 


le  said,  calmly, 
e  trace  of  fear. 
;  least  to  know 
hese  have  been 

)pe  gingerly  iu 

g  traitor  down 
him,"  hj  said, 
ompelled  to  do 
le  of  the  Selis- 
mixed  up  in 


y 


UNDER  SEALED   ORDERS. 


447 


Buch  deviltry.  But  I  know  it's  useless  now.  I 
see  and  learn  from  the  letters  sent  by  Stefanovic  / 
at  Paris  to  Ossinsky  at  KieflP  that  Sergius  Selis- 
toff  the  younger,  unlike  his  father,  has  refused 
to  do  the  traitor's  dirty  work.  For  that,  you 
have  repudiated  him.  Then  you  shall  have  your 
reward.  I  take  him  to  the  bosom  of  the  family 
again.  This  envelope  contains  directions  how 
and  where  1  may  find  him.  I  iinll  find  him,  and 
make  him  my  heir,  and  bring  him  here  to  Russia 
to  help  me  with  his  knowledge  of  your  vile  as- 
sociates. He  shall  assist  me  in  hunting  them 
down.  Your  dupe  shall  turn  against  you. 
Ruric  Bnissoff,  I  toll  you,  I  will  train  him  to 
be  my  bloodhound." 

Ruric  BrasHoff  looked  him  back  in  t^e  face 
with  unconquerable  pride. 

"You  are  wrong,  Alexis  Selistoff,"  he  said, 
in  a  very  soft  voico  "Your  nephew  Sergius 
would  ^^^ject  with  shame  and  horror  your  prof- 
fered money  and  your  hateful  work.  He  has 
refused  to  help  us,  it  is  true;  but  he  loves  Russia 
well,  for  all  that,  and  he  loathes  her  tyrants.  If 
you  try  to  rooall  him,  you  will  get  scorn  for  scorn. 
And  if  you  publish  his  name,  a  hundred  of  our 
comrades  will  be  up  in  arms  at  the  word ;  they 
will  take  his  life  at  once  for  his  treason  to 
our  compact." 

Alexis  Selistoff  smiled,  and  broke  the  envelope 
open.  He  held  it  before  him  at  a  military  dis- 
tance from  his  face  and  read  out  its  contents 
slowly:  "Ow^n  Cazalet,  The  R«d  Cottage,  Moor 
Hill,  Surrey,  England."     Then  he  murmured  to 


Mi 


448 


UNDEK  SEALED   OKDER8. 


r> 


himself  ouce  or  twice :  "Oweu  Cazalet!  Ovron 
Cazalet!"  After  that,  beroso  from  his  desk  and 
moved  calmly  across  the  rootn,  with  his  soldier- 
like tread,  to  the  hugo  bureau  opposite,  filled  with 
drawers  and  pigeon-holes.  Into  one  drawer  he 
thiust  the  letter,  and  relo''kfd  it  secfuroly,  hold- 
ing the  key  in  his  hand — a  little  1u/ihh  key  very 
daintily  finished.  Next,  ho  walked  back  again, 
undismayed,  to  the  seat  by  the  desk.  Ho  Hat 
down  in  ii,  '.'oldiy,  and  fixed  his  steely  eye  once 
more  on  his  expected  victim.  '  ' 

But  even  while  he  crossed  the  rcom  Madame 
Mireff,  on  her  part,  had  not  been  idle.  Her 
chance  had  come:  with  woman's  instinct  she 
seized  it.  Noiseless,  but  quick  as  lightning, 
with  a  strange  gleam  in  her  eye,  she  rose  up  as 
the  general  rose,  and  took  a  step  or  two,  unper- 
ceived,  across  the  floor  toward  Ruric  Brassoff. 
She  drew  her  hand  from  her  boson  and  held  it 
out  in  front  of  her.  Something  bright  passed 
hastily  with  a  meaning  glance  between  them. 
Ruric  Brassoff  hid  the  toy  for  a  minute  in  the 
side  pocket  of  his  coat.  Then,  noiseless  again, 
and  quick  as  lightning  once  more,  while  Alexis 
Selistoff  was  still  unlocking  and  relocking  the 
drawer,  Olga  Mireff  slipped  back,  unporcoived, 
to  her  seat.  She  sat  down  like  a  mouse.  The 
whole  little  maneuver,  cM  unseen  and  unnoted, 
occupied  butasecor'a  or  two.  For  steal thiness 
and  silence  it  was  cat-like  in  its  dexterity.  Ruric 
Brassoff  felt  proud  of  hia  disciple's  cleverness. 
On  that  soft  Turkey  carpet  her  light  footfall  went 
unheeded.     When  Alexis  Selistoflf  turned  again 


>BR8. 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


449 


Cazalet  I  Ovron 
rom  his  desk  aad 
with  his  soldier- 
posite,  filled  with 
k>  one  drawer  he 
t  setiuroly,  hold- 

0  hvuHH  kfiy  vory 
ked  back  again, 
3  desk.     He  sat 

steely  eyo  once 

e  rcom  Madame 
been  idle.  Her 
ti's  instinct  she 
k  as  lightning, 
3,  she  rose  up  as 
p  or  two,  unper- 
Ruric  Brassoff. 
son  and  held  it 
J  bright  passed 
between  them. 

1  minute  in  the 
noiseless  again, 
e,  while  Alexis 
I  relocking  the 
k,  unperceived, 
a  mouse.     The 

I  and  unnoted, 
rorstealthiness 
xterity.  Ruric 
)le's  cleverness, 
ht  footfall  went 
I  turned  again 


madame  was  sitting  there,  as  motiordess  and  as 
deeply  iuteredted  as  before,  still  toying  with  some 
imaginary  object  in  her  heaving  bosom.  Alexis 
Selistoff  never  suspected  for  a  moment  she  had 
moved.  But  the  pretty  little  revolver  of  the 
delicate  workmanship  lay  snugly  ensconced  now 
in  Ruric  Brassoff's  pocket. 


,    CHAfflffi  U 
SBNTBNCa  iflf  mkfU,  '    ' 

Alexis  Selistoff  reseated  himself  andjlooked 
up  at  his  prisoner  once  more.  "Prince  Ruric 
Brassoff,"  he  said  slowly,  in  a  very  official 
voice,  "  late  Aulic  Councilor  and  formerly 
Chamberlain  to  her  Imperial  Majesty  tiie  Em- 
press, it  will  not  be  convenient  under  all  the 
circumstances,  regard  being  had  to  the  unhappy 
misapprehensions  of  public  feeling  in  Europe, 
that  you  should  undergo  a  regular  open  trial. 
We  propose,  therefore,  to  deal  with  you  instead 
by  administrative  order.  The  Czar's  preroga- 
tive as  fountain  of  justice  will  not  in  this  case 
be  delegated  to  judges.  It  will  be  exerted  di- 
rectly. When  a  man  of  your  rank  offends 
against  the  law,  his  punishment  should  be  ex- 
emplary. You  belong  to  the  highest  Russian 
ftristocracy,  the  ancestral  guardians  of   the  an- 


460 


UNDER  HBALKi>  ORDERS. 


cient  monarchical  principles  of  our  country. 
Your  very  name  marks  you  out  at  once  an  ono 
of  those  who  descend  in  hereditary  line  from 
the  time-honored  royal  house  of  Ruric.  You 
were  educated  among  your  peers  in  the  College 
of  the  Pages;  you  were  honored  by  emplojrment 
in  the  service  of  the  court;  you  were  decorated 
with  the  orders  of  the  imperial  household. 
Every  mark  of  distinguished  favor  was  show- 
ered upon  your  head  by  our  august  sovereign. 
Yet  out  of  pure  perversity  you  chose  to  become 
the  leader  of  a  vile  conspiracy ;  you  misled  the 
people  whom  it  was  your  hereditary  privilege 
and  duty  to  guide  and  direct  aright.  For  such 
crimes  I  could  wish  I  might  have  offered  you 
a  fitting  requital;  might  have  sent  you  to  the 
mines  for  life,  where  you  would  expiate  your 
wrong -doing  by  a  long,  a  laborious,  and  a 
squalid  punishment.  But  you  are  too  danger- 
ous a  person  for  us  to  risk  the  bare  chance  of 
your  untimely  escape.  Stark  dead  is  safest.  I 
hold  in  my  hand  here  a  special  rescript  of  his 
Mont  Sacred  and  Most  Orthodox  Majesty,  con- 
demning you  to  private  military  execution  in 
a  closed  fortress." 

Ruric  BrassoflE  bowed  his  head  slightly.  His 
conscience  was  satisfied.  "That  arbitrary  sen- 
tence," he  answered  in  a  voice  unbroken  by  emo- 
tion, "absolves  me  at  once  from  all  moral  obliga- 
tions as  regards  the  Czar  himself  or  his  appointed 
ministers.  It  is  an  autocratic  act — the  mere  des- 
potic will  of  one  man  as  against  another.  It  is 
not  the  finding  of  a  free  court  of  justice,  b^ore 


■'^5"'Y»"<-VT--''  ■ 


IS. 

our  country, 
bt  once  as  one 
[»ry  line  from 

Ruric.  You 
in  the  Collego 
y  employment 
'ere  decorated 
il  houBohold. 
or  was  show- 
lat  sovereign. 
>8e  to  become 
()u  misled  the 
lary  privilege 
it.  For  such 
3  offered  you 
it  you  to  the 
expiate  your 
rious,  and  a 
>  too  danger- 
are  chance  of 

is  safest.  I 
»script  of  his 
Majesty,  con- 
execution  in 

lightly.  His 
arbitrary  sen- 
oken  by  emo- 
moral  obliga- 
bis  appointed 
bhe  mere  des- 
aother.  It  is 
iistice,  b^ore 


UNDRB  SEALED  ORDERS. 


,m 


which  I  have  been  legally  tried  and  condemned ; 
it  is  not  thi>  unnnimous  voice  ot  the  represoutu- 
tives  of  my  country!  It  is  a  private  act— inivn 
iigaiuHt  mail,  oi)en  enemy  against  open  enemy." 
Ho  ralHod  hiw  voice  solemnly.  "  Aiexis  SolistofE, 
you  have  condemned  me,"  he  said.  "Alexis 
Selistoff,  in  my  turn,  I  condemn  you," 

The  words  rang  with  a  thrill  through  that 
high-roofed  hall.  Olga  Mireflf  leaned  forward 
with  glowing  eyes  that  seemed  to  burn  like  a 
tiger's  as  she  watched  and  waited.  Alexis  Selis- 
toflf  smiled  coldly.  Uuric  BrassofiP  himself  stood 
erect  and  inflexible,  nurveying  his  opponent  from 
some  paces  off  with  indomitable  pride  and  uncon- 
(juered  independence. 

"You  may  kill  me,"  he  continued,  atter  a 
pause,  in  a  rapt  tone  like  a  martyr's.  '"'The 
revolutionary  Cause,  you  must  remember,  does 
not  depend  upon  individuals.  A  nation  is  at 
its  back;  it  is  the  outcome  and  iiocessary  result 
of  an  organic  movement.  Cut  down  one  head 
of  us,  and  twenty  will  spring  in  its  place.  Revo- 
lutionists are  created,  not  by  us,  but  by  you;  by 
your  despotic  action ;  by  the  general  discontent 
it  begets  in  the  whole  Russian  people;  by 
the  natural,  irresistible,  and  organic  tendency  of 
all  Russia  itself  toward  a  new  and  more  human 
social  system.  O  c  this  younger  Russia  I  am  the 
embodiment  and  mouthpiece,  as  you  of  the  elder. 
I  speak  in  the  name  of  the  people,  as  you  of  the 
Czar.  The  majesty  of  the  many  is  greater  and 
more  authoritative  than  the  majesty  of  the  one. 
If  you  pronounce  sentence  on  me  as  the  spokes- 


f 


mm 


}■ 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


S-  lljy    ll|j|Z5 
^-IM    IIIIIZ2 


m 


2.0 


1.8 


1.25 

1.4 

1.6 

M 

6"     — 

► 

i 

I 


Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14SB0 

(716)  872-4503 


/♦. 


S''     Wj 


c^- 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CiHM/ICIVIH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiq 


ues 


462 


UNDER   SEALED  ORDERS. 


m' 


man  of  the  court,  I  pronounce  sentence  on  you 
as  th«  spokesinan  of  the  nation.  .  .  .  And  that 
sentence  is,  Alexis  Selistoff" — something  flashed 
(luick  in  his  right  hand — "that  you  be  shut  dead 
here  and  now."  He  leveled  the  little  revolver 
point-blank  at  his  heart.  Flash — bang — and  si- 
lence. A  report,  a  short  blaze ;  Alexis  Selistoff 
fell  back,  with  a  tiny  brass  key  still  grasped  in 
his  fingers,  on  the  chair  ho  sat  in. 

To  Olga  Mireflf,  looking  on,  what  happened 
next,  in  a  few  seconds,  was  as  a  terrible  dream 
for  its  vividness,  its  rapidity,  its  inexplicable 
suddenness.  Before  she  had  time  to  realize  that 
Alexis  SeHstoff  was  really  dead — blood  oozing 
and  gurgliL<?  in  little  sobs  and  jets  from  a  great 
gash  in  his  throat — Ruric  BrassofiF,  that  great, 
that  gloriou  i,  that  beautiful  Ruric  Brassoff,  had 
snatched  tV  e  little  key  from  the  dying  man's 
hand,  and  in  a  rapid  tremulous  voice  had  crieil 
aloud  ioher,  "Quick  Olga!  Quick,  take  it!  Be- 
fore they  come  and  catch  me — I  daren't  do  it  my- 
self— there's  no  time — the  drawer !  the  drawer ! — 
the  third  on  the  left.  Get  the  paper  out !  Owen's 
name  and  address!     Burn  it!     Burn  it!" 

He  rushed  to  the  further  side  of  the  room  as 
he  spoke,  still  grasping  the  revolver.  Olga  Mi- 
reflf,  all  in  a  maze,  but  on  fire  with  emotion, 
rushed  hastily  to  the  bn""  au,  seized  the  letter, 
and  burned  it.  Ruric  Eiassoff,  meanwhile,  stood 
with  his  back  to  the  door,  Avhich  he  had  hastily 
locked  and  bolted  from  within.  He  was  onl/ 
just  in  time.  The  guards,  roused  by  the  shot, 
were  pushing  hard  by  this  time  from  the  other 


.•--.^ 


leutence  on  you 
.  .  .  And  that 
nothing  flashed 
>u  be  shot  dead 
<  little  revolver 
-bang — and  si- 
A-lexis  Selistoff 
still  grasped  in 

i^hat  happened 
terrible  dream 
a  inexplicable 

to  realize  that 
—blood  oozing 
8  from  a  great 
ff,  that  great, 

Brassoff,  had 

dying  man's 
oice  had  crietl 
,  take  it !  Be- 
en't  do  it  my- 
the  drawer! — 
•out!  Owen's 
•n  it!" 

the  room  as 
3r.  Olga  Mi- 
<^ith  emotion, 
ed  the  letter, 
mwhile,  stood 
le  had  hastily 
He  was  onlj 

by  the  shot, 
om  the  other 


UNDER   SEALED   OFDERB. 


453 


side.  As  the  paper  burned  away,  and  crumbled 
to  ashes,  Ruric  Brasboff  rushed  back  in  a  tremor 
to  the  fireplace  again,  and  let  them  burst  in  the 
door.  "v)lga,"  he  cried,  wringing  her  hand, 
"You've  been  faithful  to  the  end.  One  more 
thing  before  you  die.  Write  to  Owen  Cazalet, 
'All  safe.  Every  trace  destroyed.'  Then  you  can 
do  as  you  like.  If  you  choose,  you  can  follow  me. ' ' 

As  well  as  Olga  could  guess,  the  soldiers  by 
this  time  had  forced  the  door  openand  were  rush- 
ing into  the  room.  For  a  second,  the  sight  ot  Gen- 
eral Selistoff,  sitting  there  in  his  chair  with  one 
hand  pressed  to  the  wound  whence  blood  gurgled 
with  hideous  noises,  struck  them  dumb  with  in- 
action Then,  even  as  they  gazed,  Ruric  Brass- 
off  raised  the  revolver  once  more,  and  pointed  it 
with  a  firm  hand  against  his  own  white  temples. 
Before  the  foremost  soldier  could  rush  forward 
and  prevent  him,  he  had  pulled  the  trigger  and 
let  the  chamber  go  off.  There  was  a  sob,  a  deep 
hush.  He  fell  forward  heavily.  The  bullet  had 
done  its  work  with  instantaneous  effect.  Blood 
was  spattered  on  the  floor.  Blood  was  spurting 
from  his  forehead.  Some  few  drops  fell  on  Olga 
Mireff's  dress  and  handkerchief.  She  gazed  at 
them  reverently.  They  were  the  blood  of  a 
martyr. 

But  Ruric  Brassoff  lay  there,  not  yet  quite  dead, 
very  pe-aceful  in  soul,  through  a  great  haze  of 
unconsciousness.  For  Owen  was  saved,  the 
paper  was  burned,  Russia  was  avenged,  and 
the  tyranny  had  come  one  step  nearer  its  final 
destruction. 


:Vf 


r 


W^'^-' 


454 


UNDER   SEALSD   ORDERS. 


m 


r#^ 


Olga  Mireff  flung  herself  down  on  the  still 
breathing  body.  With  a  woman,  to  admire  a 
man  is  rIso  to  love  him.  And  Ruric  Brassoff 
had  seemed  even  greater  to  her  in  those  last 
few  minutes  than  ever  before  in  his  life.  She 
seized  the  little  revolver,  before  the  soldiers' 
faces,  i»nd  slipped  it  unobtrusively  into  her 
dress  pocket.  As  she  lay  there,  sobbing  and 
unnerved,  by  the  martyr's  side,  her  first  im- 
pulse was  to  shoot  herself  on  Ruric  Brassoflf's 
dead  body.  But  a  solemn  sense  of  duty  pre- 
vented her  from  yielding  as  yet  to  that  womanlj' 
impulse.  To  obey  is  better  than  burnt  oflfer- 
ing ;  and  Ruric  Brassoflf  had  said  with  his  dying 
breath,  "Write  to  Owen  Cazalet."  She  must 
live  on,  now,  were  it  only  to  fulfill  that  sacred 
bequest.  What  it  all  meant,  she  knew  not;  but 
do  it  she  musi ;  she  would  live  to  write  to  Owen 
Cazalet. 

She  repeated  Ruric  Brassoff's  words  over  to 
herself,  time  after  time,  to  remember  them.  But, 
indeed,  she  had  no  need.  Every  feature  of  .that 
scene,  every  tone  of  that  voice,  was  burned  in  as 
by  a  searing  iron  into  the  very  fabric  of  her 
brain.  "All  safe;  all  safe;  3 very  trace  de- 
stroyed." It  rang  in  her  oars,  like  the  tune 
of  a  chime  of  bells.  She  heard  it  echoing 
through  her  head.  It  was  a  part  of  her  be- 
ing. 

The  soldiers  removed  her,  wondering,  and  sat 
her  down  in  a  chair.  Then  they  lifted  Ruric 
Brassoff's  body  with  unreverent  hands,  and  laid 
it  on  the  table.     Alexis  Selistoff's  they  carried 


u^  ■> 


'viV^' 


^^^'^  V'W 


It^fi 


(S. 


UNDEn  SEALED   ORDi'JBS. 


4S6 


a  on  the  still 

to  admire  a 
luric  BrassoflF 

in  those  last 
his  life.     She 

the  soldiers' 
^oly   into  her 

sobbing  and 
her  first  im- 
ric  Brassoflf's 

of  duty  pre- 
shat  womanly 

burnt  offer- 
ith  his  dying 
"  She  must 
i  that  sacred 
new  no6 ;  but 
Tite  to  Owen 

ords  over  to 
•  them.  But, 
ature  of  .that 
burned  in  as 
abric  of  her 
y  trace  de- 
ie  the  tune 
it  echoing 
of   her  be- 


out,  to  do  it  military  honor.     But  Olga  sat  there 
still,  and  no  man  molested  her. 

And  no  man,  as  yet,  made  any  inquiries  for 
the  revolver.  After  a  whil",  as  in  a  dream, 
Olga  Blireff  rose  and  walked  staggering  down 
the  stairs.  An  oflRcer  raised  his  hat  and  spoke 
to  her  as  she  went  out.  She  told  him,  in  brief, 
how  it  all  had  happened,omitting  only  the  detail  of 
her  handing  the  revolver  to  Ruric  Brassoff .  The 
officer  listened  in  silence.  "Where  is  madame 
stopping?"  he  asked,  drawing  out  a  note-book 
and  pencil. 

And  Olga  Mireff  answered  in  a  hard  voice,  as 
of  one  whose  life  is  wholly  cut  from  under  her, 
•'At  24  Slav  Bazar  Street.  I  was  watching  there 
aud  waiting — by  General  Selistoflf's  orders — for 
Ruric  BrassoflP." 

And  she  had  missed  him,  after  all,  when  he 
came !    She  never  was  able  to  warn  him ! 


'ing,  and  sat 
lifted  Ruric 
ids,  and  laid 
they  carried 


456 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS. 


CHAPTER  LI. 

AND   AFTER? 

From  the  office,  Madame  Mireff  stepped  forth 
blindly  into  the  streets  of  Moscow.  The  news  of 
the  murder  had  spread  like  wildfire.  In  that 
infiummable  atmosphere,  rumor  Hashes  electric. 
Round  the  Kremlin,  all  was  confusion  and 
strange  military  display.  The  sijuare  buzzed 
•*  %  with  Cossacks.     But   no  man   challenged   her. 

The  agent  of  the  Czar,  the  unrecognized  diplo- 
matic representative  of  the  Russian  court,  the 
trusted  friend  and  confidante  of  General  Alexis 
Selistoff,  she  walked  out  unquestioned,  erect  and 
trembling,  through  the  midst  of  that  indescriba- 
:  ble  hubbub  and  turmoil.  Superior  officei-s  mur- 
"  ■  mured  to  one  another  as  she  passed,  "Madame 
Mireff!"  and  raised  their  caps  in  homage.  Sol- 
diers slunk  on  one  side  and  let  the  great  lady  go 
by  with  a  respectful  salute.  She  was  still  free, 
thank  Heaven !  She  might  execute  her  mission 
yet  from  dead  Ruric  Brassoff ! 

Dead  Ruric  Brassoff!  Ruric  Brassoff  dead! 
She  murmured  it  over  to  herself  in  a  dreamy 
dazetl  tone.  It  seemed  impossible,  incredible! 
though  she  carried  in  her  own  bosom  the  pistol 
with  which  her  martyr  had  taken  his  great  life, 
she  could  hardly  believe  it  herself  even  now. 


JiSkr-'^,'* 


,\:,. 


"/^■; 


RS. 


UNDER  SEALED   ORDERS. 


4(7 


stepped  fortli 
The  news  of 
fire.     In  that 
ashes  electric, 
onfusion    and 
<iuare   buzzeii 
allenged   her. 
•gnized  diplo- 
an  court,  the 
eneral  Alexis 
led,  erect  and 
at  indescriba- 
'  officei-s  mur- 
}d,  "Madame 
Dmage.     Sol- 
?reat  lady  go 
i''as  still  free, 
'  her  mission 

■assoif  dead! 
in  a  dreamy 
,  incredible! 
)m  the  pistol 
is  great  life, 
:  even  now. 


He  seemed  too  grand  for  death.     And   Russia 
without  him? 

The  deep  fresh-fallen  snow  was  getting  tram- 
pled down  by  this  time  under  the  desecrating 
feet  of  men  and  horses.  There  was  bustle  in  the 
streets.  People  came  and  went  hurriedly.  Ma- 
dame Mireff  called  a  sleigh,  one  of  the  quick  lit- 
tle cabs  that  ply  for  hire  on  runners,  and,  scarce- 
ly knowing  what  she  did,  bade  the  man  drive — 
faster,  faster,  to  the  Frenchified  Hotel  de  L'lm- 
peratrice  in  the  modem  quarter  where  her  maid 
was  stopping.  Her  own  boxes  were  there,  and 
her  private  belongings;  for  she  had  occupied  the 
room  in  the  Rue  du  Bazar  Slav  as  a  place  to 
look  out  for  Ruric  Brassoff  only.  Of  course,  she 
couldn't  return  to  that  hateful  house  in  such  a 
crisis  as  this.  The  police  were  in  possession  of 
Fomenko's  rooms,  and  would  be  busily  engagtid 
by  now  in  ransacking  everything. 

Tinkle-tinkle  went  the  bells  in  the  keen  crisp 
air,  as  the  sleigh  hurried  along —faster,  faster, 
faster — over  the  smooth  virgin  snow  toward  the 
modern  quarter.  But  Madame  Mireff's  thoughts 
were  very  different  from  their  tone.  She  was 
reflecting  how  she  came  to  miss  Ruric  Brassoff. 

It  was  a  horrible  mischance,  yet  unavoidable, 
wholly.  For  three  weeks  she  had  occupied  a 
room  on  the  ground  floor  of  the  house  where  Fo- 
menko  lodged,  nominally  to  act  as  a  spy  for  the 
Government  on  Ruric  Brassoff 's  arrival ;  really, 
to  warn  her  Chief  when  he  came  against  im- 
pending danger.  Of  Fomenko  himself  she  knew 
nothing — not  even  his  name.     She  had  only  been 


I 


i 


i 


Ai^;4. 


V«^::' 


(■.■■" 


,'  'l' 


458 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDER^. 


told  by  Alexis  Selintoflf  to  watch  that  house,  an 
Ruric  Brassoff  wtis  likely  to  come  there  on  his 
arrival  in  Moscow;  and  in  her  anxiety  to  save 
the  great  lesider's  life,  she  didn't  care  to  risk  dis- 
covery of  her  complicity  in  the  plot  by  making 
too  minute  in<iuirie8  about  the  possible  subordi- 
nate he  might  Ije  expected  to  visit.  But  on  the 
very  morning  of  Ruric  Brassoff 's  arrest,  she  had 
left  her  front  room  for  a  few  minutes  only  when 
he  presented  himself  at  the  door ;  and  she  knew 
nothing  of  his  arrest  till,  half  an  hour  later,  as 
she  gazed  out  of  the  window,  still  on  the  lookout 
for  her  (/hief,  she  saw  the  man  himself  hustled 
into  a  sleigh  between  two  brutal  soldiers,  a  pris- 
oner for  his  life,  with  his  arms  tied  behind  him. 
Then  she  hurried  away  breathless  to  the  Krem- 
lin, all  on  fire,  to  await  Alexis  SelistofiF's  arrival 
from  St.  Petersburg,  and  to  ask  leave  to  be  pres- 
ent at  his  interview  with  the  arch-conspirator. 

These  things  Olga  Mireff  turned  over  with 
bewilderment  in  her  own  whirling  brain  as  the 
sleigh  hurried  her  on  over  the  yielding  snow 
through  the  streets  of  Moscow. 

At  her  hotel,  it  drew  up  short.  The  doornik 
came  out  and  received  her  courteously.  A  very 
great  lady,  Olga  MireflF,  in  Russia ;  a  close  friend 
of  the  Czar's  and  of  Alexis  SeliatoflE's.  Had  she 
heard  the  news  of  the  General's  death?  Olga 
Mireff  started.  Why,  it  was  there  before  her! 
Yes,  yes — impatiently — she  had  heard  it  of 
course;  was  there  herself  at  the  time;  would 
be  a  witness  at  the  inquiry ;  had  seen  and  rec- 
ognized Prince  Ruric  Brassoff.     The  doornik 


''TsiSiT^i . 


..„.. 


a?. 

that  house,  as 
le  there  on  his 
ixiety  to  save 
ire  to  risk  dis- 
ot  by  making 
ssible  subordi- 
But  on  tho 
rref  t,  she  had 
tea  only  when 
and  she  knew 
hour  later,  as 
m  the  lookout 
mself  hustled 
Idiers,  a  pris- 

behind  him. 
to  the  Krem- 
jtoff's  arrival 
ve  to  be  pres- 
onspirator. 
id  over  with 

brain  as  the 
:elding  snow 

The  doornik 
sly.  A  very 
I  close  friend 
8.  Had  she 
eath?  Olga 
before  her! 
beard  it  of 
ime ;  would 
sen  and  rec- 
he  doornik 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


469 


bowed  low,  but  turned  pale  at  the  same  time. 
"  Was  Prince  BrassoflP  dead  too,  then?"  he  asked, 
with  a  tremor  in  his  voice.  In  a  second,  with 
feminine  instinct,  Olga  Mireff  turned  on  him. 
She  had  caught  at  the  profound  undercurrent  of 
hidden  sympathy  and  interest  in  the  man's 
words  and  tone.  "Why,  you  are  of  ours?"  she 
asked  low,  in  a  ferment  of  surprise,  giving  a 
Nihilist  password. 

The  man  started  and  stared.     "And  you?" 
he  asked,  half  terrified. 

Olga  Mireff  pointed  with  pride  to  the  spots  of 
red  blood  on  her  skirt  and  bodice.  "Ruric  Brass- 
oflP's,"  she  said  hurriedly.  "I  gave  him  the 
pistol  to  shoot  with.  It's  here,  in  my  bosom.  I 
was  one  with  the  martyr.  See  here,  I  can  trust 
you.  I  need  your  aid.  It  was  I  who  helped 
him  to  kill  the  creature,  Selistoff.  He  gave  me 
a  dying  commission  to  carry  out.  When  it's 
done— with  that  same  pistol,  I,  too,  shall  free 
myself  from  this  hateful  despotism.  Come  '  > 
my  room,  doornik,  in  ten  minutes  from  now.  i 
shall  want  you  to  post  a  letter  for  me  at  once — 
what  an  honor  for  you,  my  friend !— a  letter  en- 
joined upon  me  by  Ruric  Brassoff." 

The  doornik  bowed  once  more,  this  tit^iv.  with 
profound  reverence.  His  lips  were  ashy.  "If 
you  are  a  friend  of  Ruric  Brassoff 's,"  he  said, 
kissing  the  hem  of  her  robe  as  Russians  kiss  the 
holy  relics  of  saints  and  martyrs,  "you  can  com- 
mand my  services.  I  never  knew  till  now  you 
were  one  of  the  circle." 
Olga  Mireff  looked  hard  at  him.     "This  is  a 


i- 


-*;■? 


:/' 


•■*■■ 


460 


UNDKR   SEALED   ORDERS. 


J  ■ 


I^W^ 


maHk,"  she  said,  in  a  very  low  voice,  touching 
her  cheek  as  sho  npoke — "this  that  I  wear  before 
the  outer  worhl.  The  other  that  I  showed  you 
just  now  is  my  face.  And  my  face  is  sacred. 
Ruric  BrnsHoff  has  kissed  it." 

She  went  up  to  her  own  room,  and  sat  down 
hurrie<lly  to  write.  It  was  in  terrible  suspense, 
for  at  any  moment  now  the  police  might  break 
in  to  interrogate  her.  But  she  must  send  the 
letter  Ruric  Brassoflf  had  enjoined.  Not  dire  t, 
though,  not  direct;  that  would  be  far  too  dan- 
gerous. In  a  very  few  words  to  her  cousin  Tania 
at  Charlotteuburg  near  Berlin,  asking  her  as  a 
last  favor  to  herself  and  Ruric  Brussoff  to  for- 
ward a  letter,  inclosed,  to  Owen  Cazalet,  the  Red 
Cottage,  Moor  Hill,  Surrey,  England.  Then  the 
letter  itself  she  wrote  too.  It  was  short  and  to 
the  point : 


lit- 


"Dear  Owen — I  write  in  haste  and  fear  from 
Moscow.  Mr.  Hayward  is  dead.  You  will 
doubtless  have  guessed  from  the  papf3r8  before 
this  reaches  you  that  he  and  Ruric  Brassoff  are 
one  and  the  same  person.  No  one  else  on  earth 
now  knows  that  truth.  Let  no  one  else  know  it. 
Our  dear  and  honored  friend  was  arrested  in 
Moscow  last  night,  and  brought  this  morning 
before  your  uncle,  Alexis  SelistoflF.  I  was  pres- 
ent at  the  interview  in  the  rooms  of  the  Third 
Section.  I  supplied  him  with  the  revolver  to  do 
the  deed.  You  will  know  already  he  shot  Gen- 
eral Selistoff  dead,  and  then,  satisfied  with  that 
act  of  justice  on  a  cruel  criminal,  blew  his  own 


1, 


'T;\;  :;:>^: 


ijf.''-' 


fiTt 


RS. 

^oice,  touching 

t  I  wear  before 

I  showed  you 

face  is  sacred. 

and  sat  down 
'ible  suspense, 

>  might  break 
insf  send  the 
•     Not  dire  t, 

>  far  too  dan- 
r  cousin  Tania 
cing  her  as  a 
rassoff  to  for- 
zalet,  the  Red 
»d.     Then  the 

short  and  to 


md  fear  from 
I.     You    will 
papers  before 
?  Brassoff  are 
else  on  earth 
else  know  it. 
'  arrested   in 
his  morning 
I  was  pres- 
of  the  Third 
9volver  to  do 
le  shot  Gen- 
ad  with  that 
•lew  his  own 


UNDER   SEALED    ORDER.S. 


461 


brains  out.  His  sacrotl  blood  wjvh  scattered  upon 
my  dress.  I  would  have  killed  niynolf  then  and 
there  with  the  self-saine  pistol,  but  that  he  com- 
missioned mo  to  write  those  last  tow  lines  to  you. 
His  own  words  wore  these,  'Tell  Owen,  all  safe! 
every  trace  destroyed. '  His  dying  thoughts  were 
for  you.  What  it  meant  exactly,  it  is  not  for  me 
to  inquire;  Rurio  Brassoff  so  willetl  it.  But 
after  he  shot  Alexis  Selistoff,  and  before  he  put 
the  pistol  to  his  own  martyred  head,  while  the 
soldiers  wore  forcing  their  way  into  the  room  in 
disorder,  ho  caused  me  to  burn  a  slip  of  pai)er 
with  your  English  name  and  address,  which 
Alexis  Selistoff  had  recovered  yesterday  from  a 
man  named  Fomenko,  arrested  at  the  same  time 
with  our  revered  Ruric  Brassoff.  No  one  else 
had  seen  it.  I  send  this  out  now  by  a  trusty 
messenger.  When  he  returns,  I  shall  follow  our 
beloved  leader.  Life  without  him  has  no  charm 
for  me  now.  For  I  loved  him,  Owen,  I  loved 
him.  Yours  and  Russia's, 

"Olga  Mireff." 

She  had  scarcely  finished  this  hasty  note,  when 
the  doornik  knocked  at  the  door.  His  face  was 
white,  but  his  mien  was  resolute.  "Is  the  letter 
ready?"  he  af>ked,  in  a  mysterious  tone. 

"Yes,  rea'y,  friend,  quite  ready,"  Madame 
Mireff  answered.  "Take  it  out  and  post  it. "  And 
at  the  same  time  she  offered  him  twenty  roubles. 

The  doornik  shook  his  head  with  a  pained  ex- 
pression. "No,  no,  'tis  for  Russia  and  the 
Cause,"  he  said,  quickly,     "I  can  accept  noth- 


m 


tr*:': 


462 


UNDRR  flRALKD  ORDRKH. 


I'  >  ' 


fS 


iu^  for  that.     .     .  But  thoro*H  ouo  tbiuj; 

Bhoiild  likn,  if  I  «liin'(l  to  jiwk  it." 

"VVlmt  is  itV"  <  )l^ja  MirclT  iinkod,  wondering. 

•'A  HjMit  of  iluric!  JirusHurt'H  Bticrud  blotxl,"  tho 
man  imaworiHl  carnustly. 

Tears  HtocMl  in  Olga  MircfT's  oyiw.  She  noizod 
a  piiir  of  HcissorH  on  tli(>  tiiMo  clow  l)y.  Tho 
handBonu)  morning  rol)i)  sho  wore  was  sputterod 
all  ovor  with  little  crimson  bloodspots.  Sho  cut 
ono  (drcular  patch  out  from  tho  l)o«li('o,  just  abovo 
hor  own  heart,  with  a  round  spot  in  its  midst, 
and  handod  it  to  tho  man.  He  kissed  it  rever- 
ently. Thon  ho  folded  it  in  a  purse,  and  placed 
it  next  his  heart.  (Hga  gazed  at  him  with  a 
strange  feeling  of  fraternal  regard.  In  the  near 
presenco  of  death,  all  men  are  brothers.  And  at 
moments  of  supreme  passion,  it  is  woman's  na- 
tive instinct  to  let  her  womanly  emotions  have 
free  play  without  restraint  or  regard  of  persons. 
Ho  was  a  common  stalwart  bearded  Russian 
peasant.  She  was  a  high-born  lady,  delicately 
bred,  daintily  nurtured.  He  was  ttmned  by  the 
sun  and  scarred  by  the  frosts  of  winter;  she  was 
white  as  the  newly-fallen  snow  on  the  fields  by 
the  Oka.  But  she  gazed  at  him  for  a  moment  as 
he  bent,  all  roverenco,  over  that  strango  relic  of 
the  martyr  they  both  loved  and  honored.  Then 
sho  leaned  forward,  unabashed,  "lluric  Brass- 
off  kissed  these  lips,"  she  said,  in  a  very  clear 
voice.  "I  pass  you  on  the  kiss,  in  token  of 
brotherhood." 

The  doornik  accepted  it  with  a  certain  stately 
acquiescence.     "For  Russia,"  he  said  simply. 


:-■« 


■~1" 


UNDER   HEALED   ORDERS. 


463 


ono  tbiug  I 

,  wonderinj^. 
1  I)1o<m1,"  the 

She  Hoizod 
^'  hy.     Tho 
as  8i>iittero(l 
>tH.     Sho  cut 
0,  justjihovo 
in  its  midst, 
laed  it  rever- 
,  und  placed 
him  with  a 
111  the  near 
re.     And  at 
voman's  na- 
lotions  have 
of  persons, 
ed  Russian 
%  delicately 
aned  by  the 
er;  she  was 
he  fields  by 
moment  as 
nge  relic  of 
red.     Then 
uric  Brass- 
very  clear 
a  token  of 


And  Olpfa  Mireff  answeretl  in  tlio  saino  tone, 
"For  HuHsia." 

T(<n  minutes  inter  \m  came  back,  ploastul, 
proud,  and  Hmiiinj^.  Olj^a  sat  in  a  chair,  list- 
lessly, toying  with  tho  beautiful  deadly  revolver. 

"I  have  ])Osted  it,"  the  man  said. 

"Unobserved?" 

"Yes,  unobserved,  dear  sister." 

"That's  well,"  Olga  MiretT  answered,  without 
a  tremor  in  her  voice.  "Now  go,  that  I  may 
kill  myself  in  quiet  as  he  did." 

The  man  nodded  his  assent,  and  glided  nt>ise- 
Itssly  from  tho  room.  There  was  a  short  intor- 
vhl  of  silence  as  he  descended  the  stairs.  Then 
a  shot  above  was  hoard  clearly  ringing  through 
the  doorm'k^s  lodge.  This  time,  tho  prudent 
porter  took  two  men  up  with  him  to  search  the 
apartment.  On  the  rug  by  the  fireplace,  Olga 
Mireff  lay  dyi»g,  with  her  mouth  full  of  blood. 
Ruric  BrassoflF's  fresh  bloodstains  were  pressed 
to  her  lips  by  her  left  hand.  Her  right  grasped  a 
revolver,  very  small  and  finished.  The  large  eyes 
still  stood  open.  They  gazed  toward  the  table. 
By  its  edge  was  a  photograph  of  Ruric  Brassoff, 
taken  twenty  years  before.  It  was  hall'  obliter- 
ated in  places  by  frequent  kissing.  "You  can 
keep  it,"  she  said  to  the  doovtvk  through  a 
ghastly  gurgle  of  blood.  "And  the  revolver  too, 
that  Ruric  Brassoff  shot  himself  with."  ^ 


ain  stately 
simply. 


,*»v. 


464 


UMDEB  SBALKD  ORDEB8. 


CHAPTER  LII. 


AWAY   OVER  IN   ENGLAND. 


It  was  a  clear  March  day  in  London — a  rare 
day  for  the  time  of  year;  bright,  mild  and 
springlike.  The  breeze  blew  fresh;  the  sun 
shone  merrily.  Fleecy  clouds  floated  high  over- 
head against  a  deep  blue  background.  For 
though  the  calendar  said  March,  the  day  seemed 
Ai)ril.  lone,  like  a  gleam  of  English  spring 
herself,  had  been  shopping  in  Regent  Street,  and 
meant  to  call  on  her  way  home  at  Owen's  new 
office  in  Mr.  Hay  ward's  building.  So  she  tripped 
along  the  wrong  side  of  the  street  that  brilliant, 
busy  afternoon,  as  blithe  as  though  czars  and 
Nihilists  were  not.  To  lone,  indeed,  in  her  irre- 
pressible youth  and  strength  and  health  and 
beauty,  on  such  a  day  as  this,  the  mere  physi- 
cal joy  of  living  overbore  every  other  earthly 
consideration.  She  was  too  buoyant  to  grieve 
ovorlong.  Neither  poor  Blackbird's  sad  death, 
which  she  felt  deeply  at  the  time,  nor  her  own 
■»engagement  delayed,  nor  the  impending  terror 
above  Owen's  head,  could  wholly  cloud  or 
darken  that  glad  Greek  nature — especially  when 
all  the  world  around  was  steeped  in  sunshine, 


)S. 


rD. 

ndon — a  rare 
it,  mild  and 
sh;  the  sua 
3d  high  over- 
ground. For 
J  day  seemed 
glish  spring 
it  Street,  and 
Owen's  new 

0  she  tripped 
mt  brilliant, 
h  czars  and 
,  in  her  irre- 

hoalth  and 
mere  physi- 
her  earthly 
it  to  grieve 
i  sad  death, 
aor  her  own 
ding  terror 
'  cloud  or 
jially  when 

1  sunshine, 


■  >■■.  ..*.*■ 


UNDER  SEALED   ORDERS. 


465 


and  a  brisk  southwest  wind  was  blowing  free 
over  the  land,  laden  warm  with  soft  moisture  from 
the  joyous  Atlantic.  It  blew  lone's  chestnut 
hair  mischievously  about  her  translucent  ears, 
and  played  strange  tricks  at  times  with  the  way- 
ward skirt  of  her  simple  little  walking-dress. 

lone  had  been  in  pursuit  of  spring  frocks,  and 
was  in  very  good  spirits ;  for  though  it  pleased 
her  to  live  for  pure  love  of  it  in  Sacha's  servant- 
less  phalanstery,  she  was  amply  provided  with 
this  v/orld's  goods  by  her  father's  will,  and  to- 
duy  she  had  been  spending  her  money  freely,  as 
a  woman  loves  to  spend  it,  on  her  personal  adorn- 
ment. The  joy  of  living  had  been  re-enforced  for 
the  moment  by  the  joy  of  purchasing.  Her  light 
step  rebounded  from  the  dead  flags  of  Regent 
Street  almost  as  elastically  as  from  the  springy 
turf  of  the  chalk-downs  at  Moor  Hill.  A  painter 
who  chanced  to  pass  turned  round  as  she  went 
by  to  watch  her  go:  with  that  eager  young  face, 
those  laughing  eyes,  that  graceful  ease  of  mo- 
tion, what  a  model,  he  thought,  she  would  have 
made  for  the  merriest  of  the  Oreads!  And,  oh, 
indiscreet  southwest  wind,  even  as  he  looked  and 
admired,  what  passing  glimpses  you  revealed  of 
twinkling  feet  and  ankles  that  the  Oread  herself 
might  well  have  envied ! 

On  a  sudden,  at  the  corner,  as  she  danced  along 
lightly,  with  her  eye  for  the  most  part  intent  on 
the  hats  and  bonnets,  a  poster  caught  her  glance, 
laid  flat  on  the  ground  with  laring  big  letters. 
"Nihilist  Outrage  in  Moscow!"  it  said,  in  all 
the  startling  emphasis  o'  its  very  largest  type. 


- 1 


i.     .  i- 


V    "'■  .'     ■    -\    />.-  .""'■ "   '" 


■.^■^>:.'.j';; 


■..    <:5>-..-^*- 


466 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


??; 


5f 


"Murder  of  General  Selistoff  by  Prince  Riu'ic 
BmssDflf.  Suicide  of  the  Prince.  Death  of 
Madame    Mireff." 

The  last  name  alone  must  certainly  have  riveted 
Tone's  attention,  even  without  the  others;  but  it 
was  with  a  quick  tlush  of  excitement  that  she 
read  the  first  words  as  well ;  for  though  she  knew 
nothing  positive  as  yet  as  to  Mr,  Hay  ward's  past, 
she  felt  sure  at  that  moment  it  must  be  he  and  no 
other  who  had  committed  this  final  act  of  deadly 
vengeance  on  the  oppressors  of  his  fatherland. 
And  she  trembled  with  indignation,  already,  at 
the  bare  words,  "Nihilist  Outrage."  How  dare 
they — the  cowards!  He  was  Owen's  friend,  and 
hers.  Dear,  dear  Mr.  Hay  ward!  Who  should 
venture  to  confound  such  an  act  as  his  with  mere 
vulga.:  and  commonplace  self-seeking  murder? 

She  bought  the  paper  hurriedly,  giving  the  boy 
a  shilliug,  and  never  waiting  for  her  change  in 
the  excitement  of  the  moment.  Then,  just  round 
the  corner,  she  tore  it  open  with  feverish  fingers 
and  read  the  Moscow  telegram.  It  was  short, 
but  decisive.  She  knew  what  it  meant  instinc- 
tively. 

"Early  this  morning,  a  Nihilist  prisoner,  ar- 
rested yesterday  in  the  Rue  de  Bazar  Slav,  and 
confidently  identified  with  Prince"  Ruric  Brass- 
off,  the  famous  revolutionary  agitator  and  exile, 
was  brought  up  for  examination  at  the  tribunal 
of  political  police  before  General  Alexis  Selis- 
toff, Chief  of  the  Third  Section.  What  happened 
during  the  interview  is  not  yet  thoroughly  un- 
derstood, as  only  Madame  Mireff,  the  Russian 


8. 

Prince  Riu'ic 
Death   of 

"  have  riveted 
)ther8;  but  it 
ent  that  she 
igh  she  knew 
•ward's  past, 
be  he  and  no 
ict  of  deadly 
1  fatherland. 
,  already,  at 
How  dare 
i  friend,  and 
Who  should 
is  with  mere 
?  murder? 
ving  the  boy 
5r  change  in 
, just  round 
>ri3h  fingers 
was  short, 
mt  instinc- 

)risoner,  ar- 
r  Slav,  and 
uric  Brass- 
•  and  exile, 
he  tribunal 
lexis  Selis- 
it  happened 
oughly  un- 
le  Russian 


UNDER  SEALED  ORDER8. 


MY 


lady  80  well  known  in  London  society,  was  pres- 
ent in  the  room  with  the  two  principals.     The 
police  are  also  very  reticent.     It  has  transpired, 
however,  that,  after  a  short  but  stormy  colloquy, 
the  accused  managed  to  possess  himself  of  a 
loaded  revolver,   which   he  may  perhaps  have 
concealed   about  his  own  person,  and  fired  on 
General    Selistoff,   whom   he   wounded  fatally. 
The  general  fell  dead  in  his  chair  at  the  first 
shot.     The  door  was  then  forced  by  the  sentries 
on  guard,  who  were  just  in  time  to  see  Prince 
Ruric  Brassoff  hold  the  revolver  to  his  own  head 
and  blow  his  brains  out.     An  envelope,  supposed 
to  contain  a  critical  statement  as  to  the  Nihilist 
conspiracy,  which  the  police  had  secured,  and  to 
which  both  General  Selistoff  and  his  assailant 
attached   the  greatest    importance,    is   reported 
missing.     The  murderer's  body   is  said  to   be 
horribly   disfigured.      Great   consternation  pre- 
vails everywhere   in   Moscow,   at.''  the  Grand 
Duke  Sergius,  Governor  of  the  City,  has  issued 
at  once  a  written  proclamation  putting  the  town 
and  beaulieu  in  a  state  of  siege  till  further  notice. 
"Later— Madame  Olga  Miieff,  who  alone  was 
an  eye-witness  of  the  deadly  fracas  between  Gen- 
eral Alexis  SelistoflF  and  his  murderer.  Prince 
Brassoff,   has  committed  suicide  in   her  apart- 
ments at  the  Hotel  de  I'Imperatrice  with  the 
same  pistol  which  was  used  in  the  affair  of  the 
Third    Section,     The    whole    incident    is    thus 
wrapped  in  the  profoundest  mystery.     It  is  now 
generally  surmised  that  Madame  Mireff  herself, 
though  an  intimate  friend  of  the  imperial  family, 


■- 


^'4*      ,      -■     # 


.*>      ■'t 


la 


i\ 


h  ■ 


468  UNDER  SEALED  ORDERS, 

may  in  secret  have  been  affiliated  to  the  Nihilist 
conspiracy,  and  it  is  even  suggested  that  she  sup- 
plied Brassoflf  with  the  fatal  revolver.  Other- 
wise her  suicide  remains  wholly  inexplicable. 
Numerous  arrests  have  been  made  in  the  (luartor 
of  the  sectaries.  Trade  and  communications  are 
entirely  paralyzed." 

With  the  pajjer  grtisped  tight  in  her  trembling 
fingers,  lone  rushed  round,  all  on  fire,  lo  ( )weu's 
office.  She  had  no  doubt  as  to  the  truth  in  her 
own  mind  now.  Mr.  Hay  ward  was  dead;  but 
he  had  died  nobly  fighting,  and  he  had  protected 
Owen  to  the  last — for  the  envelope  was  missing. 
Murderer,  indeed !  murderer!  The  lie!  The  in- 
sult! Dare  they  speak  so  of  the  dead?  lono's 
face  burned  red  at  it. 

She  reached  the  shop,  quivering  hot  with 
shame  and  indignation.  As  she  entered,  she 
thrust  the  paper  into  Owen's  hands.  He  read 
it  and  sank  into  a  chair,  as  pale  as  death. 

"And  I  brought  this  on  him !"  he  cried,  wring- 
ing his  hands  in  his  agony.  "lone,  lone,  it  was 
for  7ne  he  did  it!" 

"No,  no,"  lone  cried,  hotly.  "He  brought  it 
upon  himself.  You  were  only  the  occasion,  not 
in  any  sense  the  cause.  He  did  what  was  just. 
And  his  life  hasn't  gone  for  nothing,  either.  He 
has  died  a  martyr.  It  was  the  end  he  would 
have  wished.  In  Russia— at  Moscow — by  his 
father's  home— waging  open  war  against  the 
tools  of  the  tyranny!" 

Two  days  later  Madame  MireflE's  letter  arrived. 


im- 


18, 

to  the  Nihilist 
I  that  she  Hup- 
)lver.  Other- 
inexplicable, 
in  the  quurtor 
anicatioua  are 

ler  trembling 
re,  to  Owen's 
truth  ill  her 
as  dead;  but 
aad  protected 
was  missing, 
lie!  Thein- 
ead?     lone's 

g  hot  with 
entered,  she 
Is.  He  read 
leath. 

sried,  wring- 
lone,  it  was 

e  brought  it 
ccasion,  not 
at  was  just, 
either.  He 
d  he  would 
3W— by  his 
igainst  the 


ter  arrived. 


UNDER   SEALED   ORDERS. 


.r-??^E^ 


469 


It  bore  the  Berlin  postmark.  Owen  read  it,  with 
lone,  in  breathless  silence.  When  he  had  fin- 
ished, the  strong  man  clasped  his  hands  like  a 
child,  and  cried  long  and  bitterly  over  that  sim- 
ple narrative.  Ho  had  lost  a  father.  But  for 
lone,  it  waf=  natural  she  should  think  most  of 
Owen's  safety.  Her  heart  came  up  into  her 
mouth  with  sudden  joy  at  those  words:  "No 
one  else  has  seen  it."  Then  Owen  was  free  at 
last!  No  ll'^ng  soul  on  earth  save  themselves 
and  Sacha  now  knew  the  secret  of  his  true  name 
and  ancestry. 

She  said  nothing  at  the  time.  She  only  held 
Owen's  hand  clasped  tight  in  hers,  and  soothed 
it  tenderly.  But  that  evening,  as  they  sat  alone 
in  the  draWing-room  at  the  flat — Trevor  and 
Sacha  had  left  them  together  for  half  an  horn- 
on  purpose — she  looked  at  Owen  suddenly,  and, 
obeying  a  natural  impulse,  fell  on  his  neck  at 
once  with  a  groat  flood  of  joyous  tears. 

"My  darling,"  she  said,  simply,  "I  can't  bear 
to  say  it  while  you're  so  sad  and  troubled.  And 
I'd  learned  to  love  him  too.  He  was  so  kind, 
so  fatherly.  But,  Owen,  I  can't  help  it;  it's 
such  a  relief  to  me  to  know  you've  nothing  more 
to  fear.  I'm  glad  it's  all  over.  The  strain  was 
80  terrible." 

Owen  pressed  her  to  his  heart  and  smoothed 
her  hair  with  his  hand. 

"For  your  sake,  darling,"  he  said,  "I'm  glad 
of  it,  too;  I'm  glad  ot  it." 

lone  laid  her  head  nestling  upon  his  shoulder 
and  sobbed. 


•>--\H 


I, 


>-> 


-fy  ,<*■*»■ 


470 


UNDER   SEAl^fiD   ORDERS. 


■-i '-. 


"And  now,  darling,"  she  went  on,  in  a  very 
timid  voice,  "there's  no  reason  on  earth — "  She 
paused  and  trembled. 

"No  reason  on  earth  why  wo  two,  who  love 
one  another  so  well,  shouldn't  henceforth  be  one. 
No,  lone,  no  reason."  He  kissed  her  forehead 
tenderly.     "As  soon  as  you  will,  dearest." 


THE  END. 


•r  .  '-Uh 


'  -■.*■    r                           "  "    - 

ES. 

on,  in  a  very 
arth-"     She 

Jvo,  who  love 

3forth  be  one. 

her  forehead 

Jarest." 

fc: 


A.  ■  •    '    ■■  ■  •,«,   - 


Kattaa 


of 


^ 


^ND^  bNff-maid 

Vas  sort  afnid 
TWtWr  mistress  fNUirtkrji:! 
Thn^kkirdsbe  worked 
AidncKrskirktd. 
At  ckuii^  she  wis  s-l-o-w. 

<i)        «         i»         <A>         4> 

New  III  is  blight. 
Herhnrtisli^ht. 
Fir  sbes  foond 


(471) 


'1 


v, 

:« 


4 


I   V 


/*■'''■-■•      •:-      ,' 


El 


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&' 


ID    r%    '^'l"  "B'"'^'  "'  ' ''"  <  '"mr.v  llrrmler.  of  the  Hartz  Mouii. 
ri    L^    tttliiH.    It   iLsicri's   III..  K.iii-  ur  Cairo  JiinlH,  [.rovom.; 

AIVI  ^1  A  ""'"'  "ill'"'"!"  mill  kfl'liH  IIk'III  III  );,„h(  l.(,il,P|. 
1^  1^  r^  'i"ii.  •'  iiwiki-.-.  CuiiurifM  ►ill-  rvfii  »lii|.  hlicil. 
ALf  C  C2  ''"'^' '''"""•'"•'  ^>'"'il  l>,V  niiiil  i.ii-  1.1  .•.■III'..  ;5.  !,| 
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AM    A    D   I    P   C     '• ■■  '"•'il"l  "■•■••■     A,l,ln.>,s, 

A  R   B  L  E        ;"i'N'>'<l>'riiiiilStruel,  I'Hiijioicu'iiiA,  I'A. 


».'iw>«<««.| 


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1 


